


No less than life

by Petra



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-05
Updated: 2007-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dick demonstrates exactly what he's learned, Bruce will show him what he got wrong and maybe do it over again, just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No less than life

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite possibly the filthiest thing I have ever written. Here there be chan.
> 
> Te got me started. Jack, Pixie, and Katarik kept me going. Betty made me think harder about what I had done when she beta read for me.

Dick is much too old to sit on Bruce's lap and feel comfortable there. He's gangling, and he's never entirely sure how long his legs are going to be when he wakes up in the morning. He's tall enough now that when they share a chair in the study, his toes touch the floor But Bruce still lets him, still kisses him on the forehead and hugs him and says, "It's time for bed."

"I'm not tired," Dick says, and he's old enough that he knows how stupid it used to sound. Tall enough that when he turns around, he ends up kneeling on Bruce's thighs and feeling silly.

He's old enough, too, to know that when he puts his hands on Bruce's face and kisses him, it's not a game. It's dangerous, and it means Bruce has to deal with him, the fact of where he is and what he's doing.

The fact that Dick is old enough to kiss people now, and that he has an erection.

"Dick," Bruce says when Dick lets him go enough, "this is --"

Dick is definitely not the only person in this chair who has an erection. "You can't tell me it's adrenaline. You --" He puts his hand on Bruce's erection.

Bruce entirely lets Dick put his hand on Bruce's erection. And then he says, "This is inappropriate, Robin."

He has plenty of time to push Dick's hand away, and he doesn't do it. Not in time to stop Dick from squeezing him through his pants before he gasps. Not before he -- pushes into Dick's hand.

"Are you going to tell me to stop?" Dick asks.

Bruce tangles his fingers in Dick's hair so fast it hurts and pulls him in to kiss him again. It feels like all the kisses he's ever dreamed of getting from Bruce, too hard and warm to be anyone else. There's something about the way Bruce's teeth feel on his lower lip that makes something in the world make a kind of sense that it never quite has before.

Bruce lets his breath out when he lets Dick go, not sighing, but -- he sounds angry. "This is --" Dick squeezes him and Bruce grabs his wrist, but doesn't stop him. "Why?"

Dick pets him, strokes him harder -- looking for the point where Bruce stops him -- but Bruce just closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and takes it. "I want to," and that sounds even stupider than "I'm not tired." "I want you," Dick adds. "I want this -- and everything you'll give me -- and -- Bruce, I --" he shakes his head. "Please."

Bruce takes a shuddering breath and holds himself still. "Dick --"

"And you want it." Dick squeezes him again, knowing exactly how hard he'll hit the floor from this height if he's wrong.

Bruce groans.

"Oh, god, yes." Dick kisses him again, thinks of all of the little things he's done -- do guys, does Bruce like it as much as girls do when you bite their, his ear? -- and shivers hard. It's hard to be this brave in just a shirt and slacks. He's so hard it's starting to hurt, and he's rubbing himself against Bruce's leg before he really knows that's what feels so good.

"Not like this," Bruce says, and now, now he pushes Dick's hands away.

Dick frowns. "Why not?" and oh, that was the wrong octave. He wills his voice to be low, grown up. "Like how, then?"

"Get up." Even Dick's lowest -- face it, tenor -- is nothing compared to Batman's command voice.

It doesn't stop Dick's knees from wobbling, but he does it. His erection feels too obvious this way, and he can't quite keep his hand away. Squeezing -- doesn't help. "What should I do?" he asks.

"Do that again," and he can't not. His thighs are shaking.

"Bruce --" Dick bites his lip, trying to stop himself, and manages only by stuffing his hands in his back pockets. Which makes the fit of his pants even worse, but at least he's not -- "I wanted to do this for you, not for me. I --"

Bruce is staring at him -- Batman is, like Dick's trying some new move and he keeps saying, "I've got it" and he's just falling on his face, every single time. "This isn't appropriate."

Dick crosses his arms. "I know -- I know, but --"

"If you want this --" and Dick is laughing, incredulous, almost so much he doesn't hear "-- open your pants and touch yourself."

"I --" He's doing it, and his hands are shaking. "Please let me do this for you."

Bruce's smile makes him feel like the dumbest guy in the room, the last one out when Batman comes crashing in and everybody else runs for it. "You are."

He's pinned there, in the middle of the floor, and he doesn't want to touch himself -- not again, it's been enough times -- but he doesn't want Bruce to stop watching him, stop wanting him. So he does it, and he squeezes himself hard, fast -- just the memory of kissing Bruce, of the way he'd felt under Dick's hand --

"Slow down."

"I can't," Dick says, but even when he says it, he knows he can, and he is. "Oh, god, Bruce -- I can't do it for long, I --"

"Don't come yet." Bruce's voice --

He's followed that voice into burning buildings and gunfire. Would follow it anywhere.

He can feel Bruce's eyes on him, hot and just as crazy -- oh maybe, just maybe -- as Dick is right now.

Dick bites his lip hard. "When -- I -- I -- please, I --" If he just knows how long, maybe he can hold on long enough, however long enough is. He's shaking and he feels like he's going to fall over before he even manages to have an orgasm, but he's better than that.

He's always been better than that, even with nothing to lean on. He makes himself balance, makes himself not speed up.

"Better," Bruce says, and it is if he says it is.

"Oh god." Dick shivers. "Can I go faster? Just -- nn -- just a little, I need --"

Bruce says, "May I," and Dick can't take grammar, not now.

"Oh, god, Bruce," he says, and --

"Focus." It's like a whip-crack, like he's in the field.

Like he's not masturbating, right now, for Bruce who is staring at his erection and his hand, more focused than Dick could ever be.

"I'm sorry. I just --" Dick groans, tightens his free hand into a fist hard enough that his nails bite into his palm, but it doesn't clear his head. "Please, may I -- may I go faster."

He can't even get the question to sound like a question. It's too hard when he's also moaning, when squeezing himself feels like the only thing he knows how to do.

"You may," Bruce says, and Dick can't stop himself from shouting when he does it. He's never so much as groaned before -- never dared -- but the permission makes it all that much more real.

It's like torturing himself except that it doesn't hurt. Everything feels better, every stroke -- "I'm -- I can't do this, I can't keep going, I'm going to --"

Of all the things in the world that don't hurt, only Bruce -- only Batman saying, "Wait," could possibly be enough to get Dick to pay attention.

Bruce is staring at him still, red in the face and hands clenched so tight on the arms of the chair his knuckles are white. "For what?" Dick asks, trying to hold on -- it's what Bruce wants, and if he does something wrong Bruce won't -- kiss him, love him, let this happen again.

"Permission." Whatever Bruce is waiting for --

Dick has to trust he has some reason for this, that there's more to it than wanting to see him take a stumbling step and rebalance. He squeezes himself so hard it hurts, but not enough to stop him from wanting. "Please," he says. "Please --"

And Bruce says, "Come," and Dick does, like a kick in the spine, knocking him to almost his knees and making him stagger again, catch himself on Bruce's shoulders.

His shirt will never be the same again, and Bruce's isn't any better off. Dick's pants are around his ankles, his hands are sticky with his own semen, and he can't stop himself from smiling. "Let me do that for you, not just --"

Bruce kisses him. It starts soft, deep, everything a kiss ought to be, and ends quick and hard like a punishment. Like he didn't just do everything Bruce said.

"Please," Dick says, because it worked last time.

He doesn't expect Bruce to grab him by the shoulder, to push him down and lift his hips -- and he's been here, before, more times than he'd like to remember, across Bruce's lap with his ass in the air, but he hasn't done anything wrong this time. Not for years, though, and he hasn't missed it.

"Don't," Dick says, and tries to get up, but Bruce is stronger than he is -- bigger than he is -- and he can't do it without doing something that would really hurt. He laughs, trying to make Bruce snap out of this enough to stop. "You can't spank me, Bruce, I'm --"

Dead wrong, among other things, because that slap is nothing else. "Don't push me," Bruce says. Batman -- Batman says.

"I'm not, I --" Dick winces. "I didn't push you at all."

"You kissed me." It doesn't hurt, not compared to a hundred other things Dick has felt, but it stings, and it's making his skin feel warm. And Bruce isn't stopping.

"You kissed me back," Dick says, and the next slap is harder. "Ow, I --"

"You pushed too hard." Batman's voice is getting lower, and his hips --

He still has an erection, and he's thrusting it against Dick's stomach like he's not even aware of it.

"Just let me touch you," Dick says, and tries to roll away, off.

Batman catches him around the waist and holds him there, squeezing his buttocks. It makes the sting from the spanking something completely different. "Not yet."

Dick shifts sideways, trying to figure out whether he wants to press into the touch or get away from it. "That was all I wanted, really, just --"

"You -- ah --" Batman pushes Dick's hips down and thrusts against him harder. "Shouldn't have -- Dick --"

"I thought -- I thought you wanted me."

Bruce says, "Yes," and -- he's shaking, and Dick's shirt is wetter, but it still takes him a second to figure out Bruce has just come in his pants.

He has no idea what to do about that. "I'm sorry."

Bruce lets him up, and when Dick looks at him again, he looks flushed and about half as embarrassed as Dick feels. "It's -- all right."

Dick stares at him. "Are you sure?"

He looks wry. "I'm sure we'll both survive."

"That's not what I meant." Dick gets up and kisses him again as an experiment.

Bruce kisses him gently. "Go to bed."

Dick frowns. "But --"

Bruce pushes him away. "You heard me."

Dick backs away and fastens his pants. "I -- fine, but -- I'm not just going to let this go."

"Neither will I." Bruce looks toward the door. "Tomorrow."

If he'll really talk about it -- Dick has waited a lot longer than one night to bring this up. "Good night, then."

Bruce smiles faintly. "Good night," he says, and Dick leaves.

He spends the ten minutes before he manages to fall asleep wondering what he'd done that made Bruce so angry, and if he could have done something different. It's easier than wondering what Bruce will say, or what he's thinking.

They hardly talk the next day. Dick doesn't want to bring it up in case Bruce has changed his mind, or is more angry than he'd seemed at the end, so all through meals and patrol, he only says the stuff he has to, like, "Pass the salt," and "Two guys, guns, seven o'clock."

It doesn't help that Bruce is better at being quiet than he'll ever be.

When they get back to the Cave, Dick is all ready to go upstairs and pretend they didn't touch each other yesterday when Bruce catches him by the shoulder and kisses him.

The surprise and relief hit him like a sack of wet sand. He hadn't realized how much he'd given up on this actually happening -- let alone Bruce starting it -- until it's real. Dick moans and clutches Bruce's shoulders because it's much better than grabbing himself. "Bruce, I --" He doesn't want Bruce to get mad again. "I'm sorry, I --"

"You have nothing to apologize for." Bruce kisses him again, and he doesn't fall over, or even into Bruce's arms, but it's a really close call. His knees are shaking already.

He can't even think about the night before without blushing. "I -- I shouldn't have kissed you."

Bruce's smile is -- Bruce. "Nor I you. I suppose that makes us even."

"I --" Dick shakes his head, tries to make himself not want this so desperately. "I guess. If you're not mad."

"Not at all." Bruce kisses him again -- and they haven't kissed so very many times that Dick should draw a pattern from it, but he has, and this is outside of that pattern. Gentle, soft --

It's not like kissing Bruce at all.

He's whimpering already and he hates himself for even being able to make that kind of a noise. "I'm sorry."

"Come upstairs with me," Bruce says, and Dick can't say no to that, to the pounding of his blood in his ears and the throb of his erection.

"Oh -- yes, I --" He knows he's blushing and it makes it all worse. "If you want me to."

Bruce's hand on his hip, on his ass, feels heavy enough to hold him in place forever. "Now," he says.

In his command voice.

Dick blushes all the way to the bedroom, even though he's trailing after Bruce. Dogging his heels, if he has to be honest with himself -- and he should be, someone should be. "Do you really want me here?" he asks, when they're in Bruce's bedroom, and the huge clean bed is right there.

Bruce frowns at him and he starts to worry even more -- has he said something wrong already? "If you don't want to be here, go."

Dick crosses his arms. "I didn't say that, I -- you just -- you were angry with me." The memory of just how badly Bruce had wanted him doesn't make the rest of it any less intimidating.

"No, I wasn't." Bruce touches his cheek, lifts his chin, and it's impossible not to meet his eyes even though Dick is embarrassed to even try. "You were -- very insistent."

And that that could even sort of be a bad thing -- "If I hadn't been, you wouldn't have kissed me, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't have." Bruce kisses him again, harder, more like the day before. "But it was very forward of you."

Dick can't tell if Bruce is teasing him or complimenting him or what. He closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"So fearless," Bruce says, and he's -- hugging Dick. Really a hug, warm and close.

Dick shivers and tells his stupid hips to just hold still. He shouldn't, can't rub himself against Bruce, even though he's right there and he wants it. The only consolation he has is that Bruce can't get too mad about something he's done, too. "I love you," he says, hoping it'll help, and Bruce sighs and kisses his forehead.

"I know," and it's --

It's not everything he's ever dreamed of, but Bruce doesn't push him away, and he lets himself relax, just a little. Enough to hug Bruce back. "What do you want me to do?" he asks, and he's afraid already of what Bruce might possibly say. He has ideas -- but he had ideas yesterday, and not one of them involved jerking himself off for Bruce.

Bruce always has the best plans, even if Dick doesn't always understand them.

"Get on the bed and take your clothes off." It's not Batman's voice, but -- Bruce can give orders just as well.

At least this one makes sense.

Dick squeezes him and says, "Of course," and does it, as fast as he can go after years of practice getting out of his civvies and into uniform.

Bruce is watching him the whole time and that makes it better and worse, all at once. He's there, he's smiling -- just faintly, but he is \-- but he's there and he knows exactly how slow Dick is thinking, how much his hands are shaking already.

"I --" Dick pulls the sheets back and gets into bed. The sheets aren't any nicer than the ones on his bed, but they feel like they should be. He leaves them down at the end of the bed even though it feels funny to just lie there naked. "Okay, what next?"

Bruce runs his hand down Dick's chest and tweaks his nipple. It hurts and burns and makes him twitch. "Tease yourself for me," and -- it's wrong to do this in Bruce's bed, and worse with him watching and taking his clothes off, going as slowly as Dick was going fast.

"Don't you get tired of, of watching?" Dick asks, trying to make a joke out of it to make Bruce stop wanting this so badly. It's hard to really tease himself without making himself completely crazy, too.

"I'll let you know if I ever do." Bruce is smiling at him.

It makes the bed feel less giant and cold, and that lets Dick squeeze himself a little harder. "Oh -- oh, if you're sure, if -- you really want this."

"Yes." Bruce sits on the edge of the bed and runs his hand up Dick's thigh, squeezing gently. "This is exactly what I want."

Dick has to let himself go at that, at how happy Bruce sounds to have him there, or he's going to come. He closes his eyes and tries not to let himself lose it yet. "I -- god, I didn't know."

"Are you done already?" He can hear Bruce's smile -- for him, and he's not angry, and --

Dick opens his eyes and smiles back. "I just -- I can only take so much, you know?"

"Mm." Bruce strokes his other thigh. "We'll have to work on that."

The thought of training in this kind of thing as hard as he's trained to be Robin makes Dick dizzy. "Work on it how?"

Bruce isn't smiling now, but he looks just as amused, somehow. "Gradually. It's the only way to effectively build endurance."

"Endurance?" Dick feels like his brain is completely broken and all he can really do is repeat what Bruce is saying. "But -- I don't understand."

"It's an issue of mind over matter." Bruce bends down and kisses his -- his thigh, firm enough not to tickle. "You learned to hold your breath for relatively long periods through practice."

"This isn't like holding my breath, it's --" Dick bites his lip. "It's involuntary. I mean -- isn't it?" He realizes how stupid that sounds and says, "But -- okay, so you can learn to not -- but -- how?"

Bruce runs one finger down Dick's erection and he shuts his mouth tight on the moan. "Do your best not to reach orgasm without -- permission."

"Your permission?" Dick thinks of the day before, of how hard he'd come because Bruce told him to. Because he knows how to take an order, but this is an awfully big order.

"I'm much less inclined to be lenient with you than you are." Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "It helps to have someone -- spotting you."

"Watching," Dick says, and gets it, and grins. "Okay, I can try."

"That's all I've ever asked." Bruce kisses him again, and Dick has just enough thought power left to actually come up with a useful question.

"But -- why did you spank me yesterday?" Dick bites his lip and tries to put all his data together like Robin should. He's not going to be even mildly surprised if Bruce wants to do it again, considering how much he apparently enjoyed it, but it would be good to pinpoint what set him off in the first place. "I did everything you asked."

Bruce shakes his head and pats Dick's cheek. "You were entirely too tempting."

Dick frowns. "But you were having fun, and I was -- and -- what do you mean, tempting?"

"You react so powerfully to stimuli." Bruce strokes his hair. "I wanted to see how you would react to that."

"You could've asked. It didn't hurt or anything." Dick squeezes Bruce's shoulder and props himself on his elbow. "It was just -- weird."

"There are ways to make it seem less so. For now -- let's work on your endurance."

Dick licks his lips. "Okay. How?"

"Let me know when you reach your limit." Bruce kisses his lips, then moves down the bed and kisses his thigh. And his erection, and that's just --

"Oh god." Dick tightens his hands into fists in the sheets. "Oh, are you really --"

Bruce -- Batman says, "Relax."

He lets go of the sheets and of his leg muscles, of his shoulders, of everything he can make relax. His erection isn't going anywhere, and slowing down his heart rate would take meditation he just can't manage right now. "I'm -- trying."

"Better." Bruce licks him, and Dick takes a deep breath, trying to separate the feeling from the pressure to feel more. He does all right \-- not great, his breathing is getting too fast again -- but all right until Bruce takes the head of his penis in his mouth.

Wet, warm, slick, and the flick of his tongue -- "Oh god, I can't, I --" Dick covers his face with one hand.

Bruce lets him go. "Get your equilibrium back."

"Equilibrium!" Dick laughs and tries to breathe, reminds himself to keep his hands off of Bruce's head and right on the bed where they are. "I'm -- I'm okay."

"Good." Bruce sucks him again and all he does is whimper, this time, and tighten one hand into a fist.

"That feels so good," Dick says, and Bruce sucks a little harder. He has to close his eyes to not shake or thrust. "I -- oh, that's --"

He wishes he'd said "Stop" a second later because Bruce cups his balls and presses, and -- something -- he's seeing stars and shouting. "Wait, wait, wait --" He means it for himself, but Bruce lets him go, and that \-- helps.

"You're doing very well," Bruce says, and this time when he strokes Dick with just his hand it doesn't make him want to scream, just grab him, and keep him there.

But he's sure that if he was actually doing well, he wouldn't be making Bruce stop every time he tries anything. "I can do better," Dick says, promises both of them. "Keep going, I've got it."

Bruce swallows him, not just a little but -- Dick can't cover his mouth fast enough to stop himself from actually shouting. "I was wrong --" Dick bites his lip, hates the strangled noise he makes. "I can't -- I'm sorry, stop, I --"

Bruce's breathing is a little off when he lets Dick go. "You have nothing to apologize for." He pats Dick's hip and gives him a smile that would make more sense under the cowl. "Stop holding yourself back."

Dick catches his hand and squeezes before he manages to put together the sentence. "Thank you, I just -- next time I'll do better."

"I know." Bruce licks him again and Dick whimpers, bites his thumb hard to hold back the shout.

"Oh, please yes," and he doesn't have anything to ask for, he has permission, and this time when Bruce sucks him and swallows him hot and fast, Dick can finally let himself come, desperate and breathless and tense all over.

Bruce lets him go when he's done and kneels over him, huge and warm and everywhere. "You did very well."

Dick hugs him and buries his face in Bruce's shoulder, just for another moment. "Well enough?"

"For today." Bruce strokes his hair. "Are you all right?"

He's still a little shaken, and his toes are starting to uncramp. "Yes. It was just --" Dick shrugs. "Overwhelming."

Bruce chuckles. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is." Dick smiles at him. "You're going to show me how to do that, right?"

"Whenever you want." Bruce kisses him, and it's -- wet, and -- Dick knows perfectly well what his own semen tastes like, but it's strange to taste it in Bruce's mouth. It makes him shiver, and his body starts a pretty decent effort at wanting to be aroused again.

Dick is still waiting, somewhat, for Bruce to lose it like he did before, and for the gentleness to just go away. But while it's there -- "I guess now is as good a time as any, right?"

Bruce squeezes his shoulder. "Now is an excellent time."

"I've never --" Dick shakes his head and kisses Bruce again. "I mean, obviously."

"Mm. I didn't think you had." Bruce rolls to the side, off of him. The room feels much bigger and colder for a second before Dick gets his bearings again and sits up. Bruce pats his hip. "Comfortable?"

Bruce is lying on his back, looking relaxed, though there's a tension in the corner of his eyes that Dick recognizes, and he's aroused. Probably has been at least as long as Dick was, and he didn't even say anything. "Sure." Dick moves down the bed and looks from Bruce's face to his erection. "Well --" he thinks. "I'm pretty sure I can do the -- licking part, whatever it's called, without messing anything up. But -- um --" The thought of getting much of Bruce's penis in his mouth is intimidating -- and makes his own erection twitch again. "I can't, you know. Do what you did last."

Bruce makes a fist for a second, and Dick wonders what it was he said that was right or wrong enough to get him to tense. "It takes practice."

"Like everything." Dick wrinkles his nose and grins. "But I can start, anyway."

The taste isn't that strange after kissing Bruce, but the way Bruce sighs when Dick licks him to find that out -- he can tell he's doing something right. "When you take me in your mouth, make sure you cover your teeth with your upper lip."

Dick tries pulling his lip back over his teeth. "Huh. I -- okay." He wants to say he was wondering how that had worked, but he hadn't been thinking clearly enough to wonder anything at the time.

"Take it at your own speed," Bruce says, and it sounds like less of a challenge than it could be.

"Right." Dick takes the head of Bruce's penis in his mouth and licks him that way, which seems more efficient. It tastes as salty as he's expecting, and it's a weird combination of hard and soft when he presses his tongue against it.

He tries sucking, and Bruce pats his shoulder and makes a soft noise -- a moan, maybe. "You're -- doing fine."

Dick grins -- though he's pretty sure Bruce can't tell -- and strokes Bruce's erection with his hand, too. He tries taking a little more and makes himself gag -- not hard, but enough that his eyes start watering.

And he'd stop, except Bruce's breathing shifts and he groans, right out loud, and it doesn't hurt so much as feeling weird. But if it's helping \-- if it's right -- he pulls off almost all the way and does it again, getting a little farther, to the point where he can't really do anything but suck and squeeze Bruce with his hand.

Bruce squeezes his shoulder and says, "Dick --" and the fact that he can get Bruce to be speechless is enough to make up for the discomfort. It just feels right, in a way.

Dick remembers exactly how Bruce felt, doing this, and shudders. If he can make Bruce feel half that good, he'll be pleased with himself.

"You don't -- nn -- have to --" Bruce pets his hair. "Just -- slow down."

Dick lets him go and wipes his eyes, then his mouth. "Why?"

Bruce takes a deep breath. "If you keep going at that rate, you'll show me up."

"I could never --" Dick strokes him, frowning. He doesn't want to stop, not yet. "I just want you to feel good."

"You're doing very well." Bruce pushes his hair away from his face. "I needed to catch my breath, that's all."

"Then I can keep going?"

Bruce shivers, and Dick feels a little better about what he's managed. "Yes."

He doesn't mind the way his eyes water so much this time, and when he pulls back, Bruce's hips move. It's not enough to make him have to stop, but his lips brush his fist again, and Bruce makes a soft, low noise. With a little counting in his head, Dick gets Bruce to do it again, and -- nothing that comes so close to choking him should feel so good.

Bruce says, "That's -- far too effective," and his voice sounds strained. Dick laughs -- mostly in his head, because he hasn't got extra breath, and matches his rhythm, down and up and arching off the bed. It's worth the rasp in his throat, and he fights the urge to choke hard, focusing on the ragged sound of Bruce's breathing instead. It's more important to give him this than to take a really deep breath, and \-- he can take a deep breath as soon as he's done.

"Dick --" Bruce's voice is a warning, but it's not sharp enough to be a command. "I'm going to -- nn -- orgasm, stop --"

He doesn't -- as a rule -- disobey orders, but Bruce seemed to get by just fine when Dick came, and -- he's not done until he's done, after all.

"-- oh --" Bruce says, and growls, deep in his chest.

Dick is more than half expecting to choke for real when Bruce comes, and he does, and then he has to let go, and -- probably he should have just followed orders, but at least he's got a crystal clear idea of how Bruce tastes, now, and he tried.

"That was really --" Dick sits up and wipes his mouth. And his forehead. And thinks about washing his face, really, because his cheek is one big smear. "Almost as much fun as when you did it for me."

Bruce sits up and kisses him hard. "You weren't listening." It's Batman's voice, and it makes Dick shiver.

"I -- everything's fine." Dick licks his lips. "I mean, I wouldn't have wanted you to stop right then when you were doing that for me. And it's not like anything went wrong."

"This time." Bruce shakes his head. "You had no way to be sure."

Dick frowns and tries to figure out why he's so upset. "Well, no, but --"

"You took a needless risk." Bruce cups his face. "You need to learn to avoid those."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Dick presses his cheek against Bruce's hand. "Don't be mad."

"If you hadn't entirely ignored me to do it, I wouldn't be so -- upset." Bruce frowns. "This is the sort of thing that makes me want to spank you."

Dick winces and sits back, letting Bruce go. It's hard to believe that Bruce is upset at all, but that doesn't make the prospect of getting spanked much more appealing, however much Bruce likes it. "I'm not a kid, I can be plenty sorry without you --" he waves his hand. "Taking me over your knee."

Bruce is smiling -- he's sure of it, but when Dick blinks, the faint impression of a smile is gone. "It's a good negative reinforcement."

"I don't need --"

Bruce ignores him. "I hardly need to remind you that I find it pleasurable."

Dick blushes. "I noticed. But -- why?"

"You make unconsciously provocative noises. And -- movements." Bruce's lecturing voice comes back. "Mild pain is also -- quite often -- an aphrodisiac."

"I -- you really want me to let you do that again."

Bruce raises his eyebrow at Dick. "Not enough to make it a -- condition -- of this -- but -- yes."

"It's not that it hurts, it's just --" Dick bites his lip. "It feels -- weird."

"There are a lot of things that may feel 'weird' at first that are ultimately beneficial." And that's true, Dick can remember plenty of exercises that took a very long time to feel right.

"I --" he itches his cheek where the semen is drying on his skin. "I should go wash up first."

Bruce tucks his legs under himself in a smooth motion and takes hold of Dick's shoulder. "Let it remind you of your mistake."

He can't bring himself to say that he wanted the two minutes to nerve himself up for this. "Okay," he says instead, but before he moves, he needs a second more. "Did you always find, um, spanking me -- to be an aphrodisiac?"

The thing about Bruce's poker face is that it's really good, but -- Dick can tell when he's using it instead of actually looking nonchalant, too. "Occasionally."

Later -- or maybe never -- will be soon enough for him to think about when that might have been.

He's not sure if he's hoping it means "pretty much all the time" or "once or twice, right before I stopped."

"Huh," is the only answer he'll say out loud, and it feels --

Just as uncomfortably silly as it should to lie across Bruce's lap with his ass in the air, but it's worse because he's hard again, and if he moves at all from the first place he's lying, he'll shove himself right against Bruce's thigh. Spanking has never aroused him before, though, so maybe it'll take the edge off of this. "I -- should I apologize again?"

Bruce runs his hand over Dick's back -- nothing he's ever done when it was a real, important thing Dick got wrong -- and pats his ass before the first actual spank, which stings. "Are you sorry?"

"For --" Dick winces at the next three, quick in a row, and tries to keep his hips still. "For trying to do what you did, and -- ow." It doesn't sting like a papercut, but more in a generalized way.

And his erection isn't even beginning to go away. So maybe Bruce is right, and they can both enjoy this, however strange it seems.

"That's not what you did wrong." Bruce swats his thigh, next, and Dick has to remind himself not to tense.

"Well -- oh -- good, I'd -- hate to think -- ow -- that you wanted me to --" Dick hisses. "To not do that again. Because it was fun."

Bruce hits him harder, and this time it really does hurt. "You're missing the point." Rough and low. Batman.

Dick's hips jerk at least as much from the voice as the blow, and he makes himself pull away again, even though thrusting against Bruce's thigh feels good enough to distract him from the stinging pain and the rising heat in his ass. He grits his teeth against the next spank and tries for the voice he uses around Commissioner Gordon when he's Robin. "I'm sorry I disobeyed you."

Bruce pauses. "And?"

He's sure that if he says anything that could possibly be untrue, Bruce will just get angry with him for not being careful what he says. "I'll \-- I'll do my best not to do it again unless there's a -- a clear and present danger."

Bruce squeezes his ass and it stings and feels good enough that Dick shudders. "Such a good boy."

The phrase shouldn't make him feel as comfortable as it does. It's not praise of any one thing he's done, but -- Dick smiles and pats Bruce's thigh. "Are we okay?"

"Yes." Bruce pats his ass again, then runs his hand down Dick's thigh and pulls his legs apart a bit farther. "We're okay."

Dick cranes his neck to look back at him. "Should I get up?"

"Not yet. You're fine right where you are." Bruce presses his index finger against Dick's lower lip, and Dick takes the hint and opens his mouth. It's not as complicated or challenging as getting Bruce's erection into his mouth, but it feels enough the same that he can pretend for a little while, and then laugh at himself for daydreaming about it already. Bruce asks, "Why are you smiling?"

Dick blushes. "Just -- it's a lot like having your penis in my mouth. Except less -- messy."

"One of the advantages this has, yes," Bruce says, and pushes his middle finger into Dick's mouth, too.

He's not sure exactly how far he's supposed to take the similarity, but it seems like a safe bet to suck good and hard -- though Bruce's fingers are big enough that his eyes are watering when he tries, and he's suppressing the urge to gag again. Bruce squeezes his ass -- still sensitive enough to tingle when he does it -- and that's enough of a distraction that Dick pushes the reflex away. Bruce pulls his fingers out and pushes them in again, watching him, and when he pulls them away entirely, Dick grins at him. "I don't mind doing that, either."

"I could tell." Bruce spanks him once more, lightly, and he winces. "Not right now."

"No, I know -- I just --" Dick shrugs and moves his head from side to side to get the crick out of his neck. "You looked like you were enjoying it."

"Yes." Bruce runs his dry fingers down Dick's spine, and then presses one of the wet ones down the cleft of his buttocks. "Nearly as much as you may enjoy this."

Dick bites his lip. "What do you want me to do?"

"Push back against my hand." It feels -- strange. In a wholly different way than still being on his hands and knees across Bruce's lap.

"It --" Dick wriggles, trying to find the edges of the actual feeling as opposed to the thought that Bruce's finger is inside him. "It kind of hurts, but --" He bites his lip. "Is it supposed to?"

"Is it a muscular pain or due to friction?" Bruce asks, and Dick tries to focus.

He's been much more uncomfortable than this and been able to figure out why, and how to stop it, but he was never this aroused at the time, too. "Muscular -- I think. Maybe." Bruce pulls his finger out slowly and Dick winces. "Okay, maybe both."

"I see. Sit up for me." Bruce pats his shoulder.

It's a relief to get off of Bruce's lap -- Dick feels a little more grown-up and in control of himself, and then he makes a face at himself for feeling that way while his butt still stings. "Sorry, I'm just not \--" he waves a hand. "Used to that kind of feeling."

Bruce pats his cheek and stands. "Another thing we can practice."

"It's supposed to feel good, right?"

"Yes." Bruce moves some of the books on the shelf in his nightstand and flicks a catch or something that Dick can't see. A compartment built to look like the back of the shelf opens up, and Bruce takes out a tube of something, then comes to sit next to Dick again. "Most of the things people do in bed should."

"I really hated it when you spanked me yesterday," Dick says, and he's proud of himself for finding a way to say it that doesn't sound like he's complaining. "But today, it, um."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "It um?"

Dick suppresses the urge to grab a pillow to hide his erection. It's not as though Bruce wouldn't be completely aware of it anyway. "It felt \-- good, like you said. Not the part where it hurt, exactly, but --" He looks at a blank patch of wall because it's easier than looking at Bruce's face. "I don't know why."

"Mm. Perhaps with experimentation --"

"Not right now." Dick blushes at himself, then looks at Bruce, trying to figure out if he's joking. He looks like he might be. "I mean -- I didn't do anything wrong. Did I?"

"Not at all." Bruce kisses him again.

Dick smiles. "I didn't think so." He sneaks a peek at what Bruce has in his hand, because if Bruce really didn't want him to know what it was, he'd hold it so the label was all covered, and he's not. "Lubricant, huh? That might help with the friction thing."

"It should." Bruce puts some on his fingers -- Dick estimates it's maybe a teaspoonful, just in case he needs to know later. "Kneel up and spread your legs a bit more."

"Oh, good." Dick does it and grins at him. "I was afraid you wanted me across your lap again."

Bruce freezes for a second, then shakes his head slightly. "Another time."

Dick wrinkles his nose. "But this way at least I can kiss you."

"A point in its favor." Bruce presses one of his slick fingers right where it was before, but the friction is definitely gone. "Push back again."

"Hmm." Dick rocks his hips a little, looking for the uncomfortable parts of the feeling. There's still a stretch, but not a burn, and it's starting to feel good enough to make him shiver. "That's -- that's a lot better."

"Good." Bruce kisses him, and the way his tongue feels inside Dick's mouth is a lot like how his finger did, earlier -- and kind of like how his finger feels right now, probing and maybe even teasing. "You should always tell me if you're uncomfortable."

Dick pushes back on his finger again, harder this time, and makes himself gasp. "I will, I -- I promise."

Bruce bites Dick's lower lip and he whimpers and makes a face at the sound. "Does it feel good now?" he asks.

"Yes, I --" Dick takes a deep breath and tries to not make any more embarrassing noises. "It makes me feel all -- impatient."

"How so?" Bruce's voice is low in his ear.

Dick rocks his hips again, harder. It feels -- "Like I want to -- to touch myself. Again."

"Ah." Bruce does it for him with his free hand, much too gently even when Dick tries to push into his fist for better friction. "Remember what I said about permission, earlier?"

He can make himself slow down, and when he does, Bruce squeezes him and he moans. "Of course I do."

"It still applies." Bruce pets him, and it's too much of a tease, too light to get Dick anywhere close to anything he needs permission for.

"That's --" He shakes his head, trying to find the words. "It feels good, but it doesn't feel good enough. Not -- not even close."

"No?" Bruce pushes his finger in harder and Dick gasps. It's still the same feeling as before, but he was getting comfortable with the gentler motion. "What would you do differently?"

Dick makes his toes uncurl first because it's not the release of tension he really needs, but he can remember how they felt all cramped up all too clearly. "Squeeze harder. And -- not let go unless it stopped feeling good."

Bruce squeezes him again, and -- it's harder, okay, but not anywhere near enough. "How are you doing on the muscular ache versus friction front?"

It takes an effort of will for Dick not to say, "What?" He knows all the words, but it's hard to make sense out of them. "I -- I'm okay. It feels good, still."

"Mm." Bruce kisses him again and presses two fingers into him, shallowly and slowly.

The stretch is enough to make Dick groan all by itself without the slide and the way all of his nerve endings in the area are tingling. "Oh, please, I --" He leans back against Bruce's hand. "It's -- really strange and -- nn, please, just keep going, I promise I won't touch myself."

"Don't promise that." Bruce strokes him again and it's very close to enough. He feels like Bruce is watching every move, listening hard to every sound, and analyzing all of them to figure out the best way to drive Dick crazy.

It's working very well.

"I --" Dick has a sentence all planned out until Bruce does something a little different, pushes a little deeper and a little more and -- a little more is exactly what Dick wants. "Right -- there, I --"

Bruce does whatever it is again and lets Dick's erection go to squeeze his hip. While Dick's brain is still trying to find words for any of it, Bruce kisses him again, and all the words are gone. "Do you still want to touch yourself?" he asks.

"Ahh," isn't the right answer, and neither is, "Oh god," but eventually Dick manages, "Yes, I -- yes."

"Do it," Bruce says -- maybe Batman says. Dick can hardly think clearly enough to do what he really wants, let alone figure out who he's doing it for.

Dick tightens his hand into a fist first. "I -- if I do, I --" He can feel himself blushing. "I really don't want to, to have to -- ah -- wait, I --"

He has his eyes shut tight, but he's sure Bruce is smiling even before he says, "Wait a little longer, then," and pulls his fingers out just to push them in again at half the speed Dick wants.

"Please, I --" Dick can feel his fingernails digging into his palm even though they're cut short. "Please kiss me, I can't -- think."

Bruce's mouth on his doesn't help with the thinking at all, and it doesn't make him want to touch himself any less, but at least he doesn't have to hear himself whimper quite as loudly when he does it into Bruce's mouth. He can only just manage to keep his hands clenched, both of them, and try to breathe without making desperate noises.

When Bruce breaks the kiss, Dick reaches for him and pulls him down again. "I can't, I --" He never would have guessed that having someone's fingers there could possibly feel so good, but every deep thrust makes him shake a little more. The only way he can stop himself from begging is by kissing Bruce again, and even that, even sucking on his tongue, is not enough.

Bruce pulls away and kisses his cheek, and Dick is vaguely aware that it's still itchy. "How much longer can you wait?"

Dick could maybe have come up with a decent lie if Bruce didn't push his fingers in again on that last word. "A, a minute, I -- maybe."

"Touch yourself," Bruce says, and it's on the edge of painful to do it, like it got its wires crossed with the whole spanking thing. Dick tries to take a deep breath and can't.

Now that he doesn't have to tell Bruce what he needs, it's much easier to get it, to find the right speed to go with the way Bruce's fingers feel. But if he's supposed to practice any kind of self-control, he's not going to manage it. "Can -- may I, I can't really wait, I --"

"Don't hold yourself back," Bruce says, and Dick's not sure he even could if he wanted to. His thoughts are sliding like Bruce's fingers, slick and hot and huge, except that every time Bruce pushes in his thoughts go away again.

"You feel -- so good --" Dick manages to say on one of the breaths he gets, and he kisses Bruce, and -- it's been a minute, maybe a minute and a half, and he's shuddering and shouldn't feel as proud as he is of himself for lasting this long. Not when it wasn't long at all, and not when he's shaking so much. Bruce pushes his fingers in again and it's too much, too full and too hot to bear. The feeling makes him shake and come in his own fist, pushing himself back to try to find more and make the blazing heat last just another instant longer.

Before he can even catch his breath, Bruce kisses him again, and Dick gets dizzy both from not having enough air and from wanting more. It feels ridiculous to want more when he's already such a mess, when he only just came, and he's not going to say anything about it to Bruce -- though it would be plenty more to just get Bruce in his mouth again.

"Nicely done," Bruce says, as if he's complimenting Dick on sticking a landing. As if his chest isn't striped with come, and Dick isn't all sweaty from doing something that isn't that much exercise at all. He hardly touched Bruce, either, but Bruce is hard again, so apparently whatever he's done has been right.

"Thanks." Dick shifts his hips slightly. Bruce's fingers in him are starting to be a little uncomfortable, but he doesn't even have to say it before Bruce pulls them out. Dick bites his lip against the rush of feeling at that. "What should I do now?"

Bruce squeezes his ass. "Start breaking a bad habit."

He's only just started doing this, so the thought that he already has bad habits is unsettling. "What is it?"

"Don't stop yourself from making noise. It lets me know what you enjoy -- and what you need."

Dick thinks of the embarrassing noises he's been making even when he was trying to be quiet. "But I sound so -- out of control."

Bruce kisses him and squeezes his ass harder. He can hear Bruce's breathing speed up, just a little. "You sound as though you're enjoying yourself," he says, and the lecture-voice is going to make Dick's spine tingle for a while. "I know just how hard you're working to keep your control."

Not half hard enough to be as good as Bruce is at it, but he does have a lot more practice. Dick sits back on his heels and ignores the mild throb in his ass. He doesn't expect anything else considering how many hits he took there. "Okay, I won't try to be so quiet." He considers touching Bruce's erection, but it seems a little too -- pushy. He pats Bruce's thigh instead.

Bruce touches his wrist and he holds his hand still. "It's counterproductive."

"Right." Dick smiles at him hopefully. "Do you want me to do something else?"

"Such as what?" He's sure Bruce is kidding -- his voice is just soft enough, and it's not like Dick could possibly miss that he's aroused.

Dick shrugs. "Anything that would make you feel good, I guess." He laughs at himself. "You sure made me feel great."

"I could tell," Bruce says, and it's as good as a laugh. "There is a wide range of things that would qualify."

Dick squeezes his thigh. "I just bet. I could use my hand if you wanted \--" ignoring the part where he's all sticky, still, because Bruce won't have forgotten it, "-- or, I, I could lick you again." Dick bites his lip. "That was fun, too. Or -- I don't know, anything else you want."

"That is a dangerous offer," Bruce says, and he's really smiling now.

"What, the same thing I did before?"

"No." Bruce kisses him. "The offer of anything else I want."

Dick puts his arms around Bruce's neck. "You've been doing pretty much everything you wanted, and it's been a lot of fun so far." He shrugs. "I trust you."

Maybe Bruce shivers from the hug, or maybe it's the words. "I know." He rubs Dick's lower back, finding a knot in the muscles that Dick's been too distracted to really mind. "There are several more things I want."

"Tonight?" Dick leans back into his touch. "I mean -- sure, but -- several?"

"Several -- though not all of the same -- intensity." Bruce soothes away the last of the knot. "You do remember the rules, yes?"

Dick makes a face at him. "I'm paying attention. Honestly."

Bruce smacks his ass -- a warning shot, maybe. "If you're going to be flippant, you may as well go to bed."

"No, please -- I won't." Dick hugs him. "I'm sorry, it's just you tell me stuff all the time and I don't have a problem with remembering, and you keep asking."

"You have been somewhat distracted tonight." Bruce kisses his forehead and reaches for something on the bed. He holds up the tube of lubricant again and asks, "Would it be uncomfortable if I put my finger in you again?"

Dick shifts, trying to figure it out. "I don't know, but -- " he holds up his hand. "I promise I'll tell you if it's uncomfortable."

Bruce nods -- not even smiling, for that, because of course Dick should know the rules -- and puts more slick stuff on his fingers. "Lie on your stomach for now."

The sheets really need to be washed already, so it doesn't feel like quite as much of a bad idea as it might. Dick crosses his arms and rests his chin on his wrists, then remembers what he's supposed to be feeling and spreads his legs nice and wide. "Is this okay?"

"Yes." Bruce's voice sounds hoarse, and the tip of his finger is right there, but Dick can't really push back against it unless he gets his knees under him more. It doesn't hurt, not at all, though Dick --

Dick has to make himself not bite his lip, and the choked sound he makes instead is enough that he buries his face in the pillow. "It feels fine," he says, and trusts Bruce to understand him even though it's muffled. "Really -- good."

Another gentle push, and his eyes are crossing. "Good," Bruce says, and he's rubbing Dick's lower back again. "Keep breathing."

"I -- oh, I --" Dick takes a deep, deliberate breath. "What did you do before that made it so --"

Whatever it is, Bruce does it again, and it tingles just the same, wonderful way. "This?" Bruce asks.

"Yes --" Dick pushes back onto his finger as much as he can. "Do that again?"

He groans when Bruce does it, and it sounds -- broken. Bruce kisses the back of his neck. "You remembered."

Dick laughs and whimpers in the middle. "That shouldn't feel so good, it just -- god."

"Yes, it should." Bruce squeezes his ass again, and it feels -- everything is making him aroused again.

"I --" Dick shivers. "If you say so. I just --" He moves the pillow and leans on his forearm. "I didn't know I could want -- this."

Bruce makes a soft sound -- a sigh, something, but Dick's having a hard time hearing over the pound of his heart in his ears. Already. "Relax," he says, and it feels crazy to be asked to relax, but he takes a deep breath and makes a good effort at it.

"Right." It's hard not to push back, to let Bruce go just as slowly as he seems to want to, but if Dick is really thinking about it, he can manage it. It's probably a good idea, too, because if he spends much time rubbing himself on the sheets, he's going to want to come again, and that's -- he laughs at himself.

"What are you thinking?" Bruce asks, and -- he's slowing down. Dick wants to scream, to ask for more, but he's got to answer the question first.

"You're making me aroused again, and --" Dick shakes his head. "I wanted to do something for you."

"You are." Bruce kisses his shoulder and pulls his hand away. "Get on your knees again."

Dick sits up and smiles at him. "I kind of like this better -- I mean, I can move a lot better."

Bruce says, "Hm," and it seems like not quite enough, but his hand is shaking a little, too. He cups Dick's hip for a moment and presses -- two fingers, it must be -- between his buttocks. "Can you take a little more?"

"Sure, I just --" Dick takes another deep breath and rocks back. It feels -- better, this time, because he knows how it's going to feel and he's not worried. He just wants to get Bruce's fingers deeper, to that point where -- "Oh god, please --"

Bruce does it again and now Dick can really move -- throw himself into it, shove back, and it -- almost hurts, for a second, but that stops mattering. "You don't have to go so quickly," Bruce says.

"It feels so good." Dick leans back against him and tries to get his eyes to focus right again. "I -- I'm sorry." He puts his hands flat on his thighs so he won't even think to ask if he can touch himself, and tries to make himself slow down enough so Bruce will stop frowning at him.

Bruce kisses him, bites at his lip until he whimpers. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"It doesn't hurt -- it --" Dick groans and blushes at how he sounds. "Kiss me again, I can't --"

The kiss is maddeningly slow, like Bruce's hand, but at least it keeps him from having to hear himself for a little while. "Don't push so hard," Bruce says.

Dick laughs because it's better than whimpering. "Why not? I --" he twists his hips and has to take a deeper breath. "I think you like it too."

He's leaning against Bruce enough to feel him shiver. "If you don't slow down, I'll stop."

"Because I'm --" Dick breathes, holds still. "Pushing?" He grins at Bruce, teasing. "Why, do you want to spank me again?"

Bruce laughs, too, but -- it's Batman's laugh. Low and dangerous. "More with every passing moment."

Dick rocks back against his hand again. Pushes himself, makes himself shake. "But you're right, it -- it feels -- good when you do it, when you -- did it, anyway, and --" He shakes his head. "I'm not -- nn -- doing anything wrong."

"You're still not doing what I told you to." Bruce bites the back of his neck. "Are you going to listen?"

He has all of the ability in the world to say, "Of course," and probably even to slow himself down enough to make Bruce happy. He's also pretty giddy, and too aroused. At least the initial pain of the impacts will dull the arousal -- a little. Maybe. Dick says, "No," and Bruce pulls his fingers out.

"This won't always work," Bruce says, and he sounds -- aroused. That's the only good word for the way his voice rasps. "You need to learn to do what I ask. But this time --" he pats his thigh.

It's starting to feel less strange to lie across his lap, and it already feels normal -- necessary -- to spread his legs so Bruce can penetrate him. Both at once -- Dick shivers at the push of his fingers and then winces at the sting of the spank. "I shouldn't have, I --" he pushes himself back onto Bruce's fingers. "I know, I'm sorry, I just -- oh god, that feels so good --"

Instead of the thrust he wants, Bruce spanks him again, but the burn is quicker this time and it's all making him that much warmer. And Bruce, too, judging from the way he shifts against Dick's stomach. "As long as you're learning to enjoy this --" and the way his fingers feel makes Dick groan again.

"How could I -- ow, yes -- harder, please, I --" Dick rocks against his thigh and tries to breathe. "How could I not?"

Bruce laughs and spanks him harder, and Dick can't even remember which he was asking for. "It was always a possibility." He rubs Dick's ass, gently enough that the pain turns into more heat.

Dick whimpers. "I -- god, I'm -- is it okay if I --" another thrust of Bruce's fingers and he gasps. "I want to come again, from -- god, this is -- ow, please --"

The noise Bruce makes isn't anything like a word, but the way he twists his fingers when he makes it is enough of an answer. "It won't increase your endurance." He can hear Bruce smiling, but it would be too hard to look at him.

"Please --" Dick pushes back against his fingers. "It -- I --" he laughs at himself, shudders. "You want me to, nn, enjoy this, right?"

It gets him another quick series of spanks that make him wince, and then a squeeze and a rub. "Yes." Bruce punctuates that with another smack. "You may. But don't grab yourself."

"I -- wasn't going to," and the thought -- the truth that he won't have to is really -- "god, Bruce, I --"

"Three fingers?" Bruce offers, and it sounds like he really wants to.

"Please --" Dick spreads his thighs further and pushes into his hand, shuddering at the increased friction. "Please don't stop."

Bruce swats his thigh, rubs away the pain, and slows his hand down until Dick wails. "I'm not going to stop."

Dick pushes his hips back harder. "Please go faster -- I really -- need you to."

"The more you do that, the more I want to be inside you," Bruce says, and Dick shivers at the image. He can imagine how it'll feel all too clearly with Bruce's fingers inside him, spreading him open and making him want more.

"Yes, please, just --" Dick takes a shuddering breath and tries to find anything like self-control, anything to stop himself from twisting his hips and shoving himself back on Bruce's fingers. "I'm going to come, I \-- I'm sorry --"

Bruce spanks him, ten strokes hard enough that he yelps, and squeezes the pain away. "Don't apologize. I want you to."

"It feels so good --" And Bruce speeds up again, finally, and it's like permission all over again. "Bruce, god, I --" Dick wails, loses all of the words he ever knew to the burn in his ass and the stretch and the friction, and comes, shaking with it and too lost in the feeling to do anything but burn with it.

When he can find his knees again, he's still on them, and Bruce's fingers are still inside him. Bruce is petting his ass as if that's going to make the heat go away any faster. Dick shakes his head and blushes at himself, at where he is and what he asked for. "That was -- really. Um."

Bruce moves his free hand to Dick's shoulder and squeezes. "Catch your breath."

It's much easier to make himself relax now, though the slight movement of Bruce's fingers inside him isn't -- relaxing, exactly. It doesn't hurt, either, which is something. "Do you want me to get up?"

"Not yet." Bruce squeezes his ass again, and the burn strengthens.

Dick can feel himself wanting to respond -- while he's still boneless from the last bout -- and it makes him laugh. "I don't think it'll take me long enough to catch my breath."

"Long enough?" Bruce pets his hip, too.

"I want you already. Still." Dick looks up at him and smiles. "I -- I can't believe how much fun that was."

Bruce kisses him, and Dick can tell he's trying to be gentle -- and he's just not. Not at all. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I should've done something for you, though." Dick shifts against him, teasing a little, and Bruce gasps.

"When you're -- ready." Bruce smacks him, and -- the only good thing about this is that spanking's not going to be a punishment, ever again. Dick can feel himself twitch from just that.

He can feel himself blushing again and he turns his face away. Bruce knows how much he enjoyed that, but it's hard enough to admit it to himself right now. "Should I get up on my knees again, or --"

"Now?" Bruce asks.

Dick shivers at the hoarseness of his voice. "Sure."

Bruce pulls his fingers out and -- maybe it should be uncomfortable, maybe it sort of is -- but he's not going to tell Bruce that, not right now. It doesn't actually hurt, anyway. "Kneel over me," Bruce says, and Dick gets up.

The sheets are a loss, Bruce's thighs are a mess, and Dick needs a shower even more now than he did before, but he can't bring himself to care. "I --" He glances from Bruce's fingers to his erection and takes another deep breath when he feels himself twitch again. Bruce lies back and Dick straddles his stomach, facing him. "You want me to go slow, right? And tell you if it hurts, and -- make noise."

Bruce squeezes his thigh. "Stop if it hurts."

Most of Dick's muscles are pretty relaxed, but part of him is still remembering just how good Bruce's fingers felt. "Right, I'm not worried about it."

"More lubricant?"

Dick wrinkles his nose. "I -- no, I think I'm okay." He kneels up. "But you have to tell me if you're uncomfortable, too."

Bruce raises his eyebrow at Dick. "Apart from raging desire, I'm perfectly fine," he says, so dryly that if it was anything else he was joking about, Dick might wonder.

"Sorry, I know." Dick pats his chest and makes himself relax. The first push of Bruce's erection is huge and blunt, and he has to focus on how good everything felt and still feels, how much it made him shake.

And if that's not enough -- though it gets him through the first push and a shallow stroke before he eases himself up again -- Bruce is watching him the way he watches someone who's actually teaching him something. The way he watches something he couldn't stand to forget. And he's not breathing, either.

The stretch of the actual penetration is less enthralling than that. "You feel so good," Dick says, because if he tells Bruce how much he likes the way Bruce is watching him, he just might stop.

"So -- do you." The way Bruce's breathing catches makes Dick shiver and push himself just a little harder, though he's thinking now of how slowly Bruce wanted him to go.

"Tell me when I can speed up," he says, and Bruce grabs his thigh.

"Not yet."

"No, no --" Dick sighs and pushes himself down. The edges of his vision are going a little white until he takes another breath, deep -- and Bruce is in him, stretching him open and making him feel everything, everywhere, all the way to his toes. On the sixth stroke, Dick gets him deep enough that he can feel Bruce's balls against his ass, and -- that's going to be warm, every time, but the first time the sting from all that spanking makes him moan.

Bruce squeezes his thigh. "You're all right?"

Dick says, "Yes, god -- yes, you feel so, so good --" He smiles at himself. "I said -- said that. Already."

"Mm." Bruce shivers -- like he's trying to hold still. "That's -- fine."

"Just -- sounds funny." Dick kneels up, trying to take it slow even when he finds the right angle, and it -- works, smoother and sweeter and he has no idea how he can be this hard already, but he is.

Bruce groans and takes a shuddering breath. "It's fine."

"Okay." Dick kneels up and tries for that same angle again, finds it, and feels Bruce thrust up, just a little. "Oh, but --"

"What?" Bruce asks, holding still again.

Dick squeezes him with his thighs and grins at him, though Bruce looks like his eyes aren't focusing as well as they were. "You should probably ask for permission before you have an orgasm. For, um. Practice."

That gets him Bruce's focus again, and a smile that makes him shiver all on its own. "Are you comfortable. With this."

Dick rocks a little. "Yes, I -- it's really -- I don't want to say it again, but. Yes."

Bruce puts his hands on Dick's hips and squeezes him. "I want you on your hands and knees."

He's only just gotten the right angle. "Now?"

"Move," Bruce says, and the command voice is too much to ignore even though his knees are getting shaky.

"I'm sorry," Dick says, and shudders when he gets up. "I was just --"

Bruce gets up -- how he can even move that fast when he's so aroused -- and glowers at Dick.

And he's smiling, under it, but not with his mouth, just -- "I don't need that kind of practice."

"Of course you don't." It's a relief to agree with him, to get back on all fours so he doesn't have to look at Bruce. "I --"

Whatever Bruce was thinking that made him go slow earlier, he's forgotten it. The first thrust makes Dick shout from the rush and the force and the surprise. "It's enough -- waiting for you," Bruce says -- Batman, Batman's voice in his ear and the next thrust is too fast for Bruce, too hard.

It's just exactly what Dick needed before, except now he knows, with every lost breath, that it's what Bruce needs, too. "I'm sorry," Dick says, though he's lost track of what he's apologizing for.

"You should be." The words are harsh, the jerk of Bruce's hips makes him whimper, but Bruce kisses his neck -- he can't really be -- "Begging me to spank you like that."

Dick pushes back into the next thrust and lets himself moan. "I wanted you to."

"Mmm." Bruce pinches his nipple. "The way you looked --"

"Please --" Dick catches his wrist, but Bruce pulls his hand away. "You wanted me to, I --"

"And you're still -- begging." Bruce takes hold of his hip and pulls him back, faster, and Dick -- Dick doesn't want to think about the word that describes that noise because he's afraid he's screaming.

Dick gasps for breath and feels like he's breathing around the pressure of Bruce inside him. "Should I, oh god, should I stop?"

When Batman laughs, criminals flee.

Robin -- Dick shudders.

"Don't stop." Batman bites the back of his neck, and it makes the force of the next thrust seem that much worse -- better. Both. "Beg me to fuck you like you begged me earlier."

That word, in that voice, makes Dick's eyes cross. "I -- please, yes --"

Batman squeezes his erection and pounds into him until Dick's sure he's going to fall forward. "Weren't you listening?"

"God --" Dick whimpers. "Please -- fuck me, I -- god, you feel so good --"

He can't tell whether Batman groans in his ear, or if it's Bruce, but it doesn't matter. "So demanding."

Dick laughs and whimpers and braces himself. Bruce is squeezing him faster, now, and it's all driving him crazy. "Because you want me to be \-- because --"

"Yes." Bruce shivers and Dick tries to take a deep breath, but Bruce thrusts into him again and he can't.

"Don't stop, I --" Dick arches back against him. "I -- god, Bruce -- harder, please, please fuck me --" He can't even tell if he means it, but Bruce pulls him back, harder, again, again, until he can't breathe, and Bruce holds him there, full, breathless, and trying to find any word that isn't "fuck," for a long, long moment. Bruce shudders, groans in his ear and stops thrusting, and his hands shake on Dick's hips. It all feels warmer, wetter -- "Oh, god, Bruce."

"Dick," Bruce says, and sits up and pulls Dick with him. "You've done everything right." Bruce squeezes him just right, just like he'd do it himself except he's got his thighs spread around Bruce's and Bruce's penis deep inside him. His ass is still warm, and he can't breathe at all.

"Please --" Dick says, and it's all he can manage, and only once, before Bruce squeezes just right, just -- there, like that, and he comes, whimpering and shocked at himself, at how strong the feeling can be, and how badly he wants to stay right where he is, pushing into Bruce's hand and gasping for breath, for as long as he possibly can.

Bruce pets his chest while he catches his breath. "You may regret this tomorrow," he says, and kisses Dick's neck.

"I won't." Dick catches his hand and laces their fingers together. "I couldn't."

"I meant -- almost entirely -- on a more physical level." Bruce shifts slightly and Dick winces.

"Oh -- well -- yes." Sitting through algebra will be even less fun than it normally is.

Bruce pats his thigh. "Waiting won't help."

Dick braces himself, and it's more uncomfortable than he's expecting, but not as bad as it could be. On the other hand, he's seriously sweaty and sticky. Far too much of his skin is getting itchy. "I -- I'm really a mess."

"You're quite filthy, yes." Bruce pats his ass as he moves to get up.

"Okay, that --" Dick gets his feet under him and manages not to wince too much. "That was really worth it, but -- ow."

Bruce gets out of bed and kisses him. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure." Dick wrinkles his nose and grins. "I bet your hand hurts, though."

"Not precisely, but I'm sure I'll be aware of exactly how demanding you were for a day or two."

Dick laughs and hugs him. "Then I guess I'll have to wait until the day after tomorrow to ask you again."

Bruce embraces him and settles one hand gently on Dick's hip. "I'm sure we can find something interesting to do tomorrow."

"I trust you to come up with something."

The next day is just about as bad as Dick figures it's going to be. He's pretty good at pretending nothing hurts even when he's sore all over, but Alfred is pretty good at telling when Bruce is faking being okay. "Was it a very difficult patrol, Master Dick?" he asks, and pours Dick more orange juice.

Dick spent the whole patrol wondering what was going on with Bruce and if something might possibly happen when they got back. "Yeah, it was pretty rough."

Alfred clucks his tongue. "Perhaps you should stay in tonight."

It sounds like a great idea, but only if Bruce does, too. Dick shifts in his chair just enough to pinch one of the sore spots -- he doesn't want to get too excited over anything at the dining room table. "I'm okay. I didn't even need stitches."

"Small mercies, sir," Alfred says, and goes back into the kitchen.

Bruce pats Dick's shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

"I don't even remember walking into my bedroom, I was so tired." Dick smiles at him. "I kind of hope it's a rough patrol tonight, too."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "That's nothing anyone should wish for."

"You know what I meant," Dick says, and pokes his scrambled eggs with his fork. If Bruce is going to try to pretend everything is normal, he needs a better line than that.

"Yes." Bruce glances toward the kitchen and lowers his voice slightly. "I think your choice of double entendre is a poor one."

Dick drinks his orange juice and thinks. "Well. Then maybe it'll be a light patrol, and we can work on the new techniques you showed me."

Bruce nods. "I plan to, though perhaps we should skip training for tonight."

"Do we have to?" Dick frowns. He's sore, but it's not stopping him from being eager every time he remembers all of what they did.

"I don't want you to overextend yourself." Bruce pushes his chair back and stands. "We'd best be going."

Dick finishes his juice and sets the glass down. "You overextend yourself all the time."

"That's not the same. Get your bookbag."

"But you push yourself a lot." Dick stands up and grins at Bruce. "It's okay if you want me to push myself, too."

Bruce frowns at him -- and okay, maybe he's taking the joke too far. "Maybe you should stay in tonight."

"I've got all my homework done." Dick frowns back. "And I'm fine, you know I am, and I hate it when you go out without me."

Bruce touches his shoulder gently and Dick wonders just how long it'll be before that's enough to make him aroused. It's the closest they usually get to a hug, and just the thought of a hug reminds him of how Bruce felt inside him. "We'll see."

The discussion is definitely over, and Dick will just have to insist more later. Right now, it won't do any good.

He has a hard time keeping his thoughts clean enough to not get himself in trouble on the ride to school, but once he gets to school, it's a little easier. Everyday life is sufficiently distracting that he only thinks about Bruce when he moves funny.

Once he gets home again, he takes a nap -- he got even less sleep than normal the night before, and if he's going on patrol and -- training -- with Bruce, he figures he'd better be ready for it.

When he wakes up, it's dark out, which means he somehow slept through dinner. He gets up, dresses fast, and goes downstairs into the dining room. Alfred is there, dusting one of the cabinets, and he smiles. "Good evening, Master Dick."

Dick looks at the table, where there's just one place set. "Hi. Why didn't you wake me up?"

Alfred takes down one of the probably priceless objets d'art and gives it a meticulous cleaning. "I was observing earlier to Master Bruce that you seem out of sorts, and he decided you needed your rest tonight."

Sometimes life would be easier if Alfred missed something, but he doesn't seem angry, or even very worried. Dick can hardly ask him what he thinks of any of this, because if he's upset he won't admit it. Also, he can't imagine asking Alfred if he thinks it's a problem that he's having sex with Bruce.

"I'm okay," Dick says, and it's increasingly true. He hardly hurts at all, now. "Did he say where he was going tonight?"

Alfred shakes his head. "He did not inform me of his plans, unfortunately. Perhaps you should have some dinner, sir."

He doesn't want dinner; he wants to know that Bruce is safe, and that he's not mad or worried or anything. But what he gets instead is dinner, and Alfred watching him to make sure that he's not really hurt. "Thanks," Dick says, and sits as normally as he can possibly manage when he's thinking hard about how to act normal. He's hungry, and the food is good like always, but it doesn't make him any less annoyed about being left behind. He's afraid that if he says anything else, it'll come out as whining, so he's quiet.

When he's done, he says, "Thanks, Alfred," and Alfred gives him the look that isn't quite a smile, but would be from someone else.

"We live to serve, sir," Alfred says.

"I'm going to go downstairs and work out." Dick stands up and doesn't wince at all. "See you later."

"Do be gentle with yourself, Master Dick," Alfred says, and Dick grins.

"I'll be fine, thanks."

The Cave is extremely empty when Bruce isn't in it, and doing basic exercises, even though they're necessary, is pretty boring. Dick finds his mind wandering in the second set of pushups, and when he switches to lifting weights he loses count of his reps because he's thinking about Bruce coming home, finding him there, and jerking him off right on the bench. He starts the set again and works until his arms are tired, then switches to his legs, but that's not any better.

The ache in his backside is almost entirely gone, enough that he isn't hurting himself more. Enough that he kind of misses it, and he gets mad at himself for wanting Bruce back right now. Gotham needs him -- both of them, really, but if Dick has to stay home for a night so Alfred won't worry too much, it's not a big deal.

They'll have to find a less direct way to reassure him, because there's no way Dick's going to give up being Robin, and he doesn't want to stop having sex with Bruce, either.

He doesn't have the attention span to do as much exercise as he probably should, certainly not as much as Bruce would if he stayed in for the night, but he does enough that when he stretches out afterward, he knows just how badly he needs a shower.

Thinking of that means thinking of showering with Bruce last night, sleepy and sticky. Dick groans at himself for being so distracted and pushes the stretch a little farther. He wants Bruce there, watching him like he did in bed, watching him spread -- like this -- and --

Dick smacks himself in the forehead and laughs. It wouldn't make any sense to try to get Bruce inside him when he's in a full split -- he wouldn't even be able to move right, and it wouldn't be enough fun. Worse, thinking about him makes him want it, even though it sounds silly.

He gets up and takes a quick shower, but he can't get the memory of how Bruce felt inside him out of his head. The desire won't go away, and it feels like even if he jerks off, he'll still want more. Dick catches himself eyeing the shampoo bottle and turns the water temperature down.

But -- there are a lot of things that are just about the right shape. It's the size that's kind of scary, because Bruce is pretty big, and it took a lot of work to get that -- relaxed.

Dick towels off and tries to stop thinking about slick, cylindrical objects, but the thought won't go away. He gets dressed again, puts his sweaty workout clothes in the laundry basket, and heads upstairs, trying to convince himself that whatever he does, it won't feel as good as Bruce did.

He's pretty sure that if he tries to kiss Bruce tonight, he'll get put off, and that just makes it harder to not think about sex and all of the smooth round things in the Manor.

Dick wanders into the kitchen to raid the fridge for an evening -- well, okay, midnight -- snack and wonders vaguely where Alfred is. When he opens the refrigerator, though, he's just as glad he's alone in the kitchen, because there's a whole stack of carrots right there, some zucchini, cucumbers, and corn on the cob.

Someday he'll figure out a way to get his brain out of the gutter, but the best he can manage at the moment is to take a deep breath and borrow two carrots and a cucumber, then find the vegetable peeler. If Alfred comes in, he'll just say he's going to peel them so they're harder to hold, and then juggle them.

He tries it once he's got them cleaned off, and almost drops the cucumber. The excuse is definitely something worth remembering, and actually practicing, too. He doesn't have a lot of use for his juggling anymore, but it's good for hand-eye coordination, and he could apparently use practice dealing with objects of different textures.

Just in case Alfred shows up, Dick juggles them all the way to his room, so that if anybody ever asks, he'll be able to be telling the truth. It doesn't seem like a good idea to start lying any more than he has to already.

Once he's in his room and he gets his pants off, though, the cucumber looks intimidating. It's still slippery as heck, and it's getting warmer, but it's not getting any smaller. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself just how much he worked up to what they did last night. Gradual, that's the name of the game.

Gradual and also lubricant, and without going into Bruce's room the best he can do for the latter is hand lotion, but it should be plenty slippery. He puts some on his hand, glances at the clock -- it's almost one, and who knows when Bruce will get back.

It feels like it should hurt more to push his finger into himself, but after the first pressure it makes him want more than what he's got. He thinks about Bruce watching him, about Bruce doing this and memorizing every little movement he made. If he'd just get home, Dick would show him -- anything. Do anything, but -- he can't reach that place in himself that makes it even better, not with just one finger.

He tries to remember to take it slow. Wrapping his hand around the cucumber reminds him of his present goal, and he bites his lip to hold in a moan and a laugh. It's hard enough to be loud around Bruce -- there's no reason to do it when he's alone.

Two fingers feels like a lot at the first push, and Dick thinks about Bruce telling him not to go too fast. He checks the clock and promises himself five minutes before he tries anything else, even though five minutes sounds like an awfully long time. Doing it slowly just makes him think of Bruce, going faster makes him whimper and want.

He tries to time himself second by second and loses track as soon as he closes his eyes and can't see the clock. A solid five minutes feels like almost enough -- he's really getting used to the feeling -- so he gives himself another three minutes like this. It sounds like overkill and feels like -- fucking.

Two minutes into the extension, he's shivering, and he strokes himself even though he knows that's not what he wants. It feels silly to watch the clock and hold himself to the earlier time limit, but he's pretty sure it's what Bruce would want him to do. He does it, slowing down even more. It helps him pretend his fingers are Bruce's, spreading him open, and that when he opens his eyes, Bruce will be there.

He's still alone when the last minute is up, so no one except him hears him take a deep breath and tell himself to relax when he pushes three fingers into himself. He can't quite stop himself from groaning, either, though he's pretty sure he's being quiet.

He has another moment or two of feeling like it should hurt to want this this much, and have it, but he can't bring himself to promise more than five minutes before he tries the cucumber. It doesn't sound like a lot of time when he thinks it that way, but his hand is getting a little cramped and he's still shivering. He's pretty sure that if he touches his penis again, he's going to orgasm before he wants to, and it's hard not to -- but not any harder than not coming in Bruce's mouth.

If that means his endurance is getting better -- he smiles at himself for being proud of this and lets himself go just a little faster. It'll make it harder to wait as long as he's said he will, but it feels too good not to let himself.

It helps to think of Bruce telling him to slow down -- not to push so hard, he'd say, and that reminds Dick of getting spanked. He wants to laugh at himself for liking it so much, and maybe at Bruce too for liking doing it. It's such a weird thing to find sexual.

And Bruce had said he wouldn't always do it, so Dick will have to find better ways to convince him. Pushing -- there's only so much he can manage.

He can't really imagine asking for it flat-out, or that it would feel as good if he hadn't done something wrong to really deserve it.

Something -- he pushes his fingers into himself a little harder and shudders. Maybe Bruce will be mad if Dick tells him about doing this. He was supposed to take the night off from pretty much everything, and if Bruce finds out he didn't --

He covers his mouth with his free hand and groans at the thought, and has to laugh again. Three days ago, he would've been furious at the idea of Bruce spanking him, and now it makes him push his hips back onto his fingers.

He could show Bruce, too -- and that thought is even better. If he demonstrates exactly what he's learned, Bruce will show him what he got wrong and maybe do it over again, just in case.

Maybe he could get Bruce to -- to fuck him, he can think the word -- and make the same soft, hungry noises he did yesterday.

Dick bites his lip at the thought and checks the clock. If he cheats by thirty seconds, no one but him will ever know, but he'll know. He closes his eyes again and makes himself wait, slows down his hand as much as he can stand, and counts his breaths instead of seconds. It's more than enough time, when he opens his eyes, and he feels way too eager and way too proud of himself for being able to wait.

The cucumber is still a little cooler than room temperature, and it's covered in condensation plus the way it's slick on its own. Dick comes even closer to dropping it when he picks it up with his lotion-covered hand. It doesn't seem any smaller, but it's a lot less intimidating now.

He feels ridiculous putting a cucumber between his legs and pushing it into himself until he actually does it. The smoothness makes it easier than it could be, and it feels --

It's not as good as Bruce's fingers, even, and nothing like his erection, but it's big enough that Dick has to clamp his mouth shut not to yell. He remembers how slowly Bruce wanted him to go with this at first -- worse than the other parts, really -- and works it in, bit by bit, with really shallow strokes. The beginning of every stroke makes him moan with the cool temperature and the stretch, and pulling it out again feels like he's giving up something important.

He gets it about halfway in before he really gets the hang of it and he can pretend again that Bruce wants him to do this, that he's watching. It doesn't feel enough like Bruce did to pretend he's really there, but it's easy to imagine Bruce asking him to do this. To thrust back against something this big and slick, to open himself up and just feel it.

If Bruce were there, Dick's sure he'd push Dick's hands away and -- and probably slow him down, especially when he got to the good, deep thrusts that hit right where Dick wants them to.

If he's going to pretend -- he has to do it right, even though it makes his eyes roll back in his head, and he can hear himself moaning. It's getting warmer, and he's getting used to the stretch and the slide of something this big inside him, pressing right there -- he adjusts, uses a shallower thrust, and almost brings himself off.

He has to remind himself to slow down, that if he wasn't the one doing this, it would last a lot longer than this, and he's going to have to stop, probably, when he has an orgasm -- so he might as well work on his endurance. He groans at the thought and rocks his hips back for another long stroke.

It's not enough at this speed to make him really need to come, and that means he can touch his erection, too.

When Bruce says, "Stop," Dick thinks at first his imagination is getting away from him, but he opens his eyes and --

"Oh." Dick shudders and lets himself go. There's no point in trying to hide what he's doing. "You're home -- early."

Bruce is right there, wearing a bathrobe and looking like he just showered.

Bruce is staring at him -- his face, his legs, his hand -- and he wants to keep going, but -- "It was a quiet night."

"Good, that's good." Dick bites his lip. "I -- do you really want me to stop?"

"I expected you to be asleep," Bruce says, and he sounds breathless more than angry.

"Mm." Dick can't really hold himself still, but when he pushes the cucumber back in, Bruce glares at him.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this."

Dick shakes his head. "I -- I went really slow, I promise. I --" He glances at the clock and grins. "I just used my fingers for, for fifteen minutes or so, and --"

Bruce kisses him hard, biting at his lips. Dick can't help but groan against his mouth. "What else did you do?"

"Just -- just this. As slow as you would." Dick hugs him. "Don't be mad. I was thinking about you the whole time."

Bruce shivers and kisses him again. "You forgot one of the rules."

"What?" Dick frowns. "I was being quiet, but you weren't here."

"Did you exercise while I was gone?"

That he even has to ask -- "Of course I did."

"Mm." Bruce lets Dick go and takes off his robe. "You didn't need me to tell you to stretch out thoroughly afterward."

"No, I did everything." Dick bites his lip and reaches for him. "I did everything you would have wanted me to."

Bruce shakes his head. "But you forgot you needed permission."

"I --" Dick blushes. "I didn't know you meant all the time."

"Now you know." Bruce licks his thumb and rubs it across Dick's nipple. It feels cool and a lot more sensitive than he would have figured, and it makes him want to keep going even more than he already does. "But you should have thought about it."

Dick laughs and catches his wrist. "You didn't say, that's all."

Bruce kisses him again. "If you indulge yourself when I'm not there, you won't get any kind of endurance."

"Sorry." Dick squeezes Bruce's hand. "Is it okay, anyway? Because I didn't -- yet, and --" He squirms. "I really want to."

"Mm." Bruce squeezes his ass and -- finally, Dick has been waiting since he knew Bruce was there -- pulls Dick's hand away from the cucumber and moves it, just a little. "I should make you wait."

Dick pushes back, shaking his head. "I didn't know, I'm sorry." He frowns, even though he's sure Bruce is joking. "I didn't do anything wrong, anyway."

"Abusing vegetables." Bruce pulls it out -- yes, that slowly, so slowly Dick whimpers -- and when Dick's sure he's going to stop this, he pushes it back in, warm and feeling strangely huge. He should be used to the sensation by now, but it's more -- more everything when Bruce is doing it, and watching him for real.

Dick laughs and tries to push back onto it more. "I'm not sorry about \-- nn -- that, but --" He tightens his hands into fists because otherwise he's either going to grab himself or shove himself back onto the thing faster, and Bruce doesn't want either of those. "You could just -- just --" He smiles, thinking of Bruce's voice, urgent in his ear. "Just fuck me yourself." Bruce wouldn't even have to start slowly, not this time.

Bruce closes his eyes for a second, then frowns at him. And goes just a little faster. Maybe he's angry, or maybe he's playing. "You shouldn't waste food."

"It's --" Dick groans and fights to keep his eyes open even through the fullest part of the stroke. "Not wasted, I -- feel so good, please --"

"Keep your hands where they are." Bruce bends in and licks his nipple. The feeling is wet and rough and goes straight to Dick's erection, same as the slick, fast shove.

"Oh, god." Dick shudders. "Please, I -- nn, I really need to -- to touch myself."

Bruce licks his other nipple and -- after all that time going slowly, Dick can't really breathe through the faster thrusts. "Don't," Bruce says.

Dick moans again -- it sounds like a whine, and he can't really help that. Or anything else. "Bruce, I can't --"

Batman says, "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, no." Dick reaches for his shoulder. "Don't stop, I won't, I -- ah, I just --"

He expects Bruce to slow down again and tease him worse, but he's sucking, thrusting harder, and Dick's legs are shaking, and his nipples are burning.

"Please, please --" Dick has to grab his own thighs so he's grabbing something to brace himself for every shove. "Please -- god, don't stop, don't -- just -- let me come, I have to -- please --"

Bruce growls -- there's no other word for the sound -- but he doesn't say yes, and he doesn't say "You may." And he doesn't slow down, and every single thrust hits right there, and fills Dick up fast and hot until he wants to scream.

And he's supposed to make all the noise he wants, for Bruce, but screaming -- "Oh fuck me, I, I -- " Dick shakes his head and digs his fingers into his thighs. "Please let me come, please, Bruce -- I'm sorry I didn't wait, I didn't know --" He bites his lip, smacks himself in the leg, anything to push back the need to come even though he hasn't touched his erection since Bruce got there.

Nothing is helping him hang on, especially not the way his voice breaks and turns into whimpers, and the wet, dirty sound and feel of Bruce fucking him harder. Dick tries holding his breath, tries to think about anything in the world but how good this feels and how much Bruce is pushing him, stretching him and sucking him. "Oh god, oh -- please, I really can't --"

Bruce bites his nipple -- that has to be the hot, searing feeling in his chest -- and he screams and shakes with the heat and the fullness. It's too much, it's all been too much, but that's more than he can take. Dick comes on Bruce's chest, even though he knows he shouldn't, even though Bruce doesn't want him to, not yet.

Bruce pushes him back onto the bed and pins him there, still stuffed full and shaking as he tries to breathe. "You forgot again," he says, rough in Dick's ear.

"I didn't, I didn't." Dick buries his face in Bruce's neck. "I tried so hard."

Bruce tugs on his hair gently. "I'd spank you, but you'd enjoy it."

"I'm sorry." Dick looks up at him, and -- he's not smiling, but he doesn't really look angry, either. "I said I couldn't wait, I -- I just \--"

"You would have been fine if you hadn't been playing with yourself for so long." Bruce runs his hand down Dick's chest.

It makes perfect sense, sort of. "I know. I'm sorry, I said -- I --" Dick shivers when Bruce pinches his nipple. "I won't do it again."

"Mm." Bruce kisses him, wet and slow and deep. "That would be a shame."

"But --" Dick frowns. "I thought I wasn't supposed to."

He can see Bruce's smile now, not just hear it. "The next time you're home for the evening, if I don't come back and find you on your knees \-- in my bed, for variety -- fucking yourself and waiting for me -- I'll be a little disappointed."

The thought makes Dick shiver. "But you usually get home later than this."

Bruce laughs. "So you'd be fucking yourself -- possibly for hours -- and waiting for me."

Dick moans and bites his lip at the thought. "So you're not mad at me."

"Very slightly disappointed -- but not angry, no." Bruce pinches his nipple again and sits up. "On the other hand, if you come while I'm spanking you this time, I'll be moderately upset."

Dick sits up and winces when the cucumber moves inside him. "I'll try not to." He moves onto his knees. "You mean now?"

"Is that starting to hurt yet?" Bruce asks.

"Not -- really." Dick shrugs.

"Then yes, now." Bruce rubs his ass when Dick gets onto his lap. "Tell me what you did wrong."

"I -- I'm not sure." Dick shivers at the first spank, and the second makes his hips jerk.

He's not expecting Bruce to push the cucumber deeper into him -- and he's not expecting it to make him moan. But he's under strict instructions to control himself, so he tries to not enjoy it quite so much.

"Think it through." Bruce spanks him again, three times, and rubs the sting into the burn that's becoming far too familiar.

"I should have -- nn -- known not to touch myself." Dick pushes back into the next thrust of the slick thing inside him. "And I --" The sting of the next slaps makes his mind turn off. "Oh, please, you're going to make me aroused again, I -- please don't."

Bruce laughs and pets the sting away. "I know what I'm doing. Tell me what you did."

"But you don't want me to come, and --" Dick shakes his head and tries to focus. "Okay, I should have known -- oh fuck me, please --" And he could talk, he's sure of it, except that Bruce is moving the cucumber in shallow, slow strokes that aren't what he wants. "God, it's not fair."

"Keep talking." It really takes the command voice to get through to Dick, even though he feels like he should have had a minute or two off between feeling this aroused and being back here.

The spanks when he hesitates don't help at all.

"I should have known not to -- oh -- do anything, nn, without your, your permission -- because you said." Dick shudders. "And I definitely, oh -- harder, please --" and he means the spanking, for the burn, because he's going to scream if Bruce fucks him any harder --

Or not scream, but make a strangled, hungry noise that's just as bad.

"You definitely what?" Bruce asks, and now, now the spanking. Late enough to make Dick gasp.

"I shouldn't have come without your permission." Dick whimpers. "And I shouldn't -- ow, please -- shouldn't do it again, please don't make me."

Bruce squeezes his ass. It feels warm already, sore from yesterday, and still stretched open and full. "I can't make you do anything."

Dick whimpers and presses back against his hand. "You're making it hard for me not to want to, and -- god, I want to, I --" he shakes his head. "But I already messed up once."

"Yes, you did." Bruce pats his hip. "Kneel up."

It's not a hard thing to do, although he's pretty sure he looks about as wild as he feels -- flushed and sticky and afraid to even try to shift his center of gravity because of the weight inside him and the way it moves when he does. "What do you want me to do?"

Bruce smiles. "What a tantalizing question. Take me in your mouth."

Dick almost asks, "Are you sure?" but it seems like a stupid question, and anyway he doesn't mind licking Bruce's penis at all, even though he kind of has to brace himself on Bruce's thighs to get there. Bruce runs his fingers through Dick's hair and pushes his head down -- not hard, not hard enough, even -- until he chokes a little, and Bruce lets him up again.

"Are you comfortable with that?" Bruce asks.

Dick squeezes his thigh and does his best to swallow Bruce deeper than he just was, though he's choking more. It's not easier than saying "Yes" would be, but it's just as obvious, and it makes Bruce push him down harder.

"Good." Bruce's breathing is ragged already, and Dick would laugh, but he doesn't have enough breath when Bruce pushes into his throat, and then he doesn't care.

He wants to scream -- again, maybe still -- when Bruce lets him up, but not to protest. He moans instead, and even though he's pretty sure this is one more thing he's supposed to take slowly, he's not in the mood for slow or careful. He wants to feel Bruce's hips move and Bruce pushing into -- fucking, is the word, his mouth, and on the fourth try he gets Bruce to shake.

"Such a good boy," Bruce says -- Batman says, really, and Dick whimpers when he can breathe, and hums in his throat when he can't. It doesn't feel like anything else, but it reminds him enough of the stretch in his ass that he wriggles, trying for more -- or something different.

Batman thrusts into his mouth again, groaning, and then pulls him off and pushes him away. "On your back again," he says, and Dick gets there as fast as he can, which isn't fast enough that Bruce isn't over him the second he's there. "Good," he says again, and puts Dick's ankles over his own shoulders.

"Did I do it wrong?" Dick asks, but he's almost sure of the answer.

"No." Batman pulls the warm, slick cucumber out of him and sets it aside, then pushes into him, bigger and hotter enough that Dick tries to stop himself from shouting, and then tries not to stop. "Isn't this \-- what you wanted."

Dick reaches for him, tries to pull him in and down at the same time. "Yes, please --" And he wants to beg, to swear as much as Batman wants him to, but he's stretched open too much to breathe for a second.

"Tell me what you want." Batman kisses him hard, his tongue just as hot and insistent as his penis.

"Oh -- oh please --" Dick pushes back against him, shuddering and fighting for just that second more of friction. "You know I want this, you know -- oh, god -- fuck me, yes --"

"What else do you want?" Batman's voice is so low -- Dick knows, perfectly well, he does that to keep it even, but it makes something twist in his stomach to hear it now. He's doing exactly what he should be.

"Anything, anything you want." Dick kisses him again. "You in my mouth or -- or this, harder -- oh, please -- forgive me, just --"

"Just -- what?" Batman's composure is cracking, and it makes Dick shake to hear it, and to feel the extra snap in his hips, hard and deep.

Dick takes a shuddering breath, loses it in a moan, and takes another. "Let me come, please, oh please -- I only wanted this, you -- nn -- inside me --" Batman squeezes Dick's erection and he wails. "Please, anything you want, just don't stop -- spank me again if you want or -- oh -- anything, Batman, anything --"

Batman kisses him hard and strokes him through another four, five, six thrusts before he says, "Come for me," and that's --

Dick's not sure how long it'll be before those words stop feeling like the only motivation he really needs, but not yet, because he's screaming again, pinned there by Batman. And he knows Batman's watching him, every second, and he doesn't stop fucking Dick full and hard even for an instant and he doesn't miss anything, anything at all when Dick comes -- for him.

"Oh god," Dick says, when he can take a breath, and then he remembers to say, "Thank you," and "Oh, Bruce --" and he's whimpering with every thrust now, not trusting his body to stop wanting more.

Batman kisses him again and -- Bruce smiles at him. "Nn. So -- beautiful."

Dick doesn't feel beautiful so much as sweaty and covered in his own semen, but this isn't the right time to argue. "You feel so good," he says. "Oh --" and he reaches for Bruce's shoulders. "Oh, I -- I love you, I --"

Bruce kisses him again and groans into his mouth, and the way he shakes and stills when he comes is almost enough to make Dick hard again. Bruce strokes his hair gently. "You're doing very well."

Dick blushes. "I'm really sorry about the --" he waves his hand. "Vegetable thing."

"I'll show you where a much better quality set of toys are -- later." Bruce kisses his forehead and sits back.

"Oh --" Dick winces when he pulls out and wrinkles his nose. "Toys like --"

"Things designed for just that purpose." Bruce pats his thigh.

"Right." Dick laughs. "Do they work better?"

Bruce raises his eyebrow at Dick. "Aren't you tired yet?"

If he had to really figure out the answer, he'd probably say yes, but he's feeling pretty intoxicated and it's hard to be sure. "Maybe?"

Bruce laughs and swats his thigh. "You were supposed to rest."

"I know." Dick wriggles, trying to find the difference between tired and aroused, and which side he's more on, because he definitely feels both. "I -- I feel okay, though."

"I should hope so." Bruce shakes his head. "If I go to get them and come back to find you abusing vegetables --"

Dick glances at the carrots. "Yeah?"

Bruce glares at him and smiles at the same time. "I won't share."

"Okay, okay." Dick laughs and sits up to kiss him. "I'll keep my hands off the vegetables."

Bruce strokes his hair and gets up. "At least you already know not to give yourself an orgasm."

Dick shivers. "I won't forget again."

"I know." Bruce takes a handful of tissues from the box by Dick's bed and wipes himself off, then throws them away and puts his robe on. "If you fall asleep, I won't wake you up," he says, as a final threat, and leaves.

Dick can't stop grinning, even after the door shuts behind Bruce. He sits up in bed to keep himself awake and tries to imagine what kind of toys Bruce has, other than the ones that are probably shaped like penises, and what people do with them. He comes up with about fifteen different options by the time Bruce comes back, and his balance has come back enough that he can get up and take the box Bruce has without wobbling. It's pretty heavy. "You sure brought a lot."

"Not so very many." Bruce kisses him. "But some better quality lubricant."

Dick nods and looks at the box again. "May I open it?"

"Yes." Bruce sits on the bed and Dick sits next to him, leans against him, and opens the box. It smells a lot like new plastic -- or rubber, that's the smell.

There are two different penis-shaped ones, one beige and about the same size as the cucumber Dick had picked out, and the other pale blue and half an inch bigger around. Just looking at that one makes him raise his eyebrows. "They're new, right?"

Bruce pats his back. "Yes."

"I --" Dick picks up the really wide one. "So you --" he bites his lip. "You were thinking of me when you got them."

"Mm. This is the set for your room, yes."

"You have more than one -- set?" Dick hears himself squeak and blushes. "Okay, maybe -- another time." He puts the big one down and picks up one of the things underneath it -- it's bright red, reassuringly narrow and not very long, but it has a really big, flat base. "What's that one for?"

Bruce squeezes his shoulder. "Approximately the same use, but for longer -- and occasionally more clandestine -- use."

"Okay." Clandestine sounds like undercover, but why anybody would want to have sex undercover -- "What's it called?"

"The longer ones are dildos, that's -- a buttplug --" Dick laughs at the name "-- and the green one underneath the other dildo is a vibrator."

"Huh." Dick shifts and makes a face. "You know, I don't think I actually want to try any of these yet."

Bruce says, "That's fine. Did you want to sleep?"

Dick puts everything back in the box just where it came from and looks up at Bruce. "I -- not really."

Bruce kisses him and not really becomes not at all. "Not really?"

Dick bites his lip. "Not yet. If that's okay."

"That's fine. Get on your knees again -- on the bed." Bruce takes the box and puts it under the bed while Dick finds enough energy to get himself moving again.

"Funny how I'm really kind of sleepy, but I still want -- something." Dick shakes his head at himself.

"Nothing too strenuous, then?" Bruce runs his hand up Dick's thigh. "Kneel up."

Dick does it, and Bruce gets behind him. "I -- I guess. I feel -- kind of sore, but it doesn't hurt, just --"

"Mm." Bruce squeezes his ass. "You do remember the rules."

"Of course I'll tell you if it's uncomfortable." Dick leans forward onto his hands. "Um. What are you going to do?" He feels kind of silly like this, waiting for whatever it is.

Bruce spreads his buttocks and Dick winces, but Bruce is -- licking him, and it doesn't hurt at all. It feels wet and -- and -- it's weird that anybody would want to put their tongue there, and probably not sanitary, but it feels so good he gets why. "Oh, I --" Dick shivers.

"Yes?" Bruce asks.

"I was afraid it was going to -- hurt, but --" It's a different kind of tingle than the other feelings, and a lot easier to relax into. Dick laughs. "I think I'd better ask permission now, before you're busy."

Bruce runs his hand up Dick's back. His calluses feel rough and reassuring at the same time -- kind of like his voice. "You may come whenever you want to."

Dick balances enough to reach back and touch Bruce's hand. "That shouldn't sound so -- so lenient."

"You've been -- impressively controlled today." Bruce licks him again, presses his tongue in, and it makes Dick moan and push back against him.

"No, I -- I didn't wait, before --" Dick shakes his head, though he's sure Bruce hasn't just forgotten. "I didn't wait at all. That was -- oh, oh please -- but are you -- nn -- sure I, I deserve this?"

Bruce pauses and Dick whimpers, even though he knows why. "Were you honestly teasing yourself for fifteen minutes before I got there?"

"Yes, I --" Dick bites his lip. "I knew you'd want me to go slow, and \-- I couldn't make myself go slow enough unless I had a, a time limit."

"I see." Bruce sighs and squeezes his ass. "Then you deserve this."

Dick can't figure out how to keep his head working well enough to argue the point when it feels so good. "I guess you're the boss," he says, and Bruce licks him again. "I -- I just --" he takes a deep breath. "C \-- may I touch myself?"

Bruce stops just long enough to say, "Yes," and pushes his tongue in deeper.

"Oh -- god, you feel so good." It feels practically unfamiliar to rub his erection -- he's hardly touched himself today, even though he's been having a lot of orgasms. It seems almost too direct, now, too much like he's rushing things, but it feels great, too. "Thank you, I --" Dick lets his hips rock and Bruce makes a soft noise and pulls him back harder.

"That's --" He wants to make it last, but even if he could make himself open his eyes, he couldn't see a clock from here. "Oh, oh -- yes, please --" When he comes, it feels warmer, maybe not as strong and urgent, but just as good, and he only has to remind himself once to not hold his breath, not choke back the wail.

Bruce tugs him back into a hug when he's done. "Was that enough?" he asks.

Dick leans on him and grins. "For tonight, sure."

Bruce kisses his forehead. "Go to sleep."

Dick nuzzles his neck. "I could fall asleep right here."

"Unfortunately, there are still some measures we must take to maintain the proprieties."

"You sound like Alfred." Dick looks up at him, and -- Bruce is a lot better at figuring things out than pretty much anybody, but he might not have realized yet. "Alfred -- knows."

Bruce presses his lips together. "There's very little Alfred doesn't know, but it's better not to make him acknowledge something he finds distasteful." He pats Dick's hip. "Sit up. We should both get some rest."

Dick winces when he does it, both from the ache and the stickiness. "I'm glad you came in, though."

Bruce tousles his hair and gets up. "So am I. Good night."

"Good night, Bruce." It's not half as much fun to hug his pillow as it would be to fall asleep with Bruce, but Dick is hardly awake long enough to come up with two feeble excuses for why it's okay if they sleep together.

Dick wakes up with sunshine on his face and the distinct feeling that he's stuck to the sheets. It only takes a moment to extricate himself, but once he's done that he needs to shower pretty much immediately. The hot water takes care of the first layer of ache and gives him an excuse to be as flushed as he gets when he remembers just why he's so very achy.

Dick towels himself off and grins at his reflection before he gets dressed. The carrots and the abused cucumber look rather dehydrated and sad when he throws them away.

Alfred doesn't act any different than normal, and Bruce is maybe a little quieter than normal over breakfast, a little more polite when he asks for the muffins, but it seems like just about any other day to Dick. He gets distracted a few times at school, but never enough to get himself in serious trouble, even in French when he gets reminded by the way the back of his throat feels when he rolls his r's.

When he gets home, he strips his sheets and takes them down to the laundry. He's done it before, and Alfred made a couple of comments about teenage rebellion, but he's never been quite so happy that he knows how to take care of this without anyone's help.

With clean sheets on the bed, he could almost pretend Bruce wasn't there the night before, but the box he'd brought is still there. Dick takes it out from under the bed and looks at the contents again, particularly the most ambitious dildo. But Bruce won't be home for a few hours, and there's really a limit to how much trouble Dick wants to get himself in when he's not going to get permission for anything.

He could probably jerk off just fine without letting Bruce know, but he'd feel guilty about it, and the pleasure wouldn't be worth the guilt.

He turns the vibrator on just to see how it feels, and turns it off again quickly. He can imagine using it all too readily, and he's still not aiming to get in trouble. The buttplug is a lot less inherently interesting, but that's more promising, too. If he's going to do something that's going to last a while, he's probably better off with a less hair-raising implement. Besides, Bruce had said the buttplug was designed for long-term clandestine use, and if he didn't mean wearing it under clothes, Dick's not sure what that really does mean.

On the other hand, he's sure that if Alfred catches him with anything like that, it'll break Bruce's rule about not pushing too hard. So -- not around the Manor, anyway, until he gets a lot better about being subtle. Maybe not ever.

He'd also better choose his moments carefully -- there are definitely times when it would be a bad idea to be distracted in the field -- but it fits in his pocket, along with one of the three bottles of lubricant. The rest goes back under the bed.

Three seems like overkill, but Bruce is always thorough, and given that Dick is already taking one to put somewhere else, maybe he won't manage to surprise Bruce this time.

Dick isn't sure he'd managed it the last time, but Bruce had acted surprised enough for anyone.

"Have you revised for your exams, Master Dick?" Alfred asks when he goes into the study.

"Sure, plenty." Dick tries to remember when his next test is in anything at all. "I'm all set."

"I do hope so." Alfred doesn't stop him from going into the Cave, though, so --

He can't be too worried.

Dick puts the buttplug and the lubricant in two of the empty pockets on his utility belt and snickers to himself about what kind of evidence they constitute. Then he changes into workout clothes. It still doesn't take enough energy to keep him from thinking about sex, and as soon as he's thinking about it, he wants Bruce to get back. After he almost drops the dumbbell the second time, he puts them away and goes for a run around the estate.

There's still a lot of mud in the trail in early spring, but it all feels different enough from the Cave that he can look around, find the new-budding leaves, and not go completely nuts with wanting to touch himself. Everything smells like it's growing, except him when he gets back to the Manor. He mostly smells like sweat.

Bruce gets in a few minutes after Dick's back in the Cave. "Alfred said you were down here."

Dick debates hugging him and getting his nice shirt all sweaty, and doesn't. "Was he frowning when he said it?"

"Slightly." Bruce pats his shoulder. "He said you were still looking rather tired, and perhaps you ought to stay in again."

"I'm fine." Dick frowns. "I can go tell him if you want."

Bruce shakes his head. "I promised him I'd find you light work -- and it looks as though I need you on surveillance duty tonight."

Dick is pretty terrible at surveillance. He gets bored too easily and fidgets too much, and he can't imagine trying to do it all night without Bruce there. But -- if it's what Bruce needs -- "Okay," he says. "Where?"

"There's a new gang moving into town." Bruce pulls out files on twenty different men, each with at least three names, and the apartment building where a few of them might be staying. "Any of these men may be involved."

For once it's a relief to have files to study and basic data to commit to memory. The training Dick has done as Robin kicks in and forces him to focus, because if he ends up on the wrong end of any of these guys' guns, he'll be in serious trouble unless he can remember that Jimmy the Moocher only uses revolvers, and to count the shots.

Dick is on the seventeenth file when Alfred says, "If I might interrupt, sirs, dinner is served."

Dinner is as quiet as breakfast, which makes Dick wonder what Alfred would do if he was really upset. He could theoretically just leave, but it doesn't seem very possible. He'd be a lot more likely to just retaliate in little ways until --

Until whatever it was that was bothering him stopped.

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick says after dinner, like he almost always does, and smiles, which is normal, too.

Alfred nods at him and gives him a look like he's doing something strange. "My pleasure, young sir. And will you both be going out on the town tonight?"

"From each, according to his ability --" Bruce says, standing up.

"I don't dispute your abilities, Master Bruce, but perhaps the needs you are -- fulfilling." Alfred doesn't glance at Dick even for a second before he leaves, and that feels strange.

Dick frowns. "We have to figure out how to show him everything is okay."

Bruce shakes his head. "He forgave me for far worse transgressions. As long as you're happy --"

"Of course I am." Dick gets up and hugs him tightly. "Everything is great."

Bruce pats his shoulder. "Eventually, he'll forgive me this, too."

"It's not just about you." Dick shakes his head. "It's both of us, and \-- is he really blaming you? But --" he bites his lip. "I kind of started it. And -- and."

Bruce kisses his forehead. "It'll be all right."

"I know, but --" Dick sighs. "He really shouldn't just be angry with you."

"Mm." Bruce pats his shoulder again. "We should go."

"Okay, but --" Dick glances toward the kitchen. "It's still not fair."

"Life so seldom is. You'll need to take the bike today."

Dick sighs, but Bruce is heading for the study, and he doesn't want to make him wait, so he follows. "Where are you going to be?"

"I had another lead on the men you're going to be watching for, though it was from a less credible source. We'll see." Bruce takes the stairs quickly, and Dick is right behind him.

"How far from the building you want me to watch?"

Bruce starts unbuttoning his shirt, and Dick has to turn away so he doesn't stare and try to kiss Bruce. They have work to do. "Ten blocks. If anything happens --"

"I'll call you, of course." Dick takes off his sweater and unbuttons his cuffs.

"It will only take a few minutes for me to get there, yes." Bruce stops talking just long enough for them both to get dressed, and Dick makes a concerted effort not to watch him, not to imagine him naked.

It's hard enough getting his uniform on as it is, especially when he remembers the extra stuff in his belt. Dick leaves it safely tucked away and checks the two-way radio. "Looks like I'm all set."

Batman checks his radio, too, and starts for the car. "Don't hesitate to call."

"I never do. I just want to check a couple more things before I go." Dick takes out the last few dossiers and skims them for tattoos, height, weight, and everything else that could help.

He manages to pretend he's not going to do anything long-term and clandestine until the echoes of the Batmobile's engine have died away, but once the thought comes back, Dick has to really fight to keep his mind on the last file. He feels guilty hesitating a little more when he should be out on the streets, but if he's only doing surveillance, it's not so important that he gets out there right now.

He goes over some of the data from the files in his head, memorizing and practicing, so he doesn't feel like he's wasting time while what he's really doing is going into the bathroom, using it for its normal purpose, and then taking out the stranger things in his pockets.

Dick squeezes the rubber plug and shakes his head at himself. It's soft, flexible, but not -- this probably isn't a good idea, and he acknowledges that to himself.

On the other hand, it'll give him something to think about other than staring at a hotel for however many hours it takes.

He probably shouldn't take as much time today as he did yesterday, but he's getting used to the feeling of a finger in his ass, and it's not that much bigger than two, which doesn't -- hurt. Per se.

Dick gives himself two minutes by his watch -- and even that seems like a long time, because he's having trouble remembering all of the different details of Frankie Phelps' dossier, the last one he looked at. Was the tattoo of "Mother" on his right arm or left? Well, it probably won't be warm enough for short sleeves -- and the two minutes is up.

An extra squirt of lubricant makes the thing colder, but it also makes it settle into place so easily Dick lets out his breath in surprise. He can feel it holding him open like a very dirty secret, but it doesn't hurt. When he gets his uniform back on and checks, he's sure it doesn't show. The armor would be useless if it were that flexible.

But he's going to be aware of it, all night.

He gives himself one last chance to stop playing this game, decides he'd rather live a little dangerously than fall asleep watching nothing happen, and washes his hands.

Dick checks the file on Phelps again -- right arm -- and gets on the bike.

The vibration makes his knees weak by way of his ass, and his jock is going to be very uncomfortable very soon if he can't talk himself down.

He laughs at himself for not thinking of how different materials translate vibrations, and focuses on the dossiers again. By the time he's halfway to his destination, he's comfortable enough with the way it makes him shiver that he's not swerving funny anymore, and he's gone through the distinguishing marks and relative heights of all the people in the files.

Once he gets close, he ditches the bike behind a dumpster and takes to the roofs. The lack of vibration is a plus, but the way things shift when he flies -- and just when he walks -- makes Dick consider hiding somewhere private and taking it out.

But it's only two blocks -- four good swings -- and he's got a comfortable enough ledge. Though when he sits down, the plug shifts deeper and he clamps his mouth shut on a whimper, and promises himself he won't fidget much.

The lack of fidgeting doesn't last, but he manages to just tap his toes for a while, and then he calculates the height of the various buildings around to practice math and distract himself. Then Johnny Fitzgibbons shows up, down on the street, and Dick takes notes -- eleven-fourteen PM, from the east, in a red Dodge sedan, license plate FSK 325, driven by an unidentifiable party.

Once Johnny's there, it's only a few minutes before Jimmy the Moocher joins the party, coming from the west on foot, apparently unaware that the notch in his left earlobe makes him completely obvious, even from the building across the way. Of course, he might not be thinking about people with binoculars, but that's how Batman and Robin get the job done.

Freddie Black shows up with a knockout redhead on his arm, and Dick hits his radio fast. "R to B."

"B here," Batman says.

"Poison Ivy's working with them." Dick watches her kiss Freddie -- he can practically see the guy's brain turn off. "She just got here."

"Controlling them, then. I'll be there in five minutes."

Dick adds to his notes and checks the street every five seconds. Fancy Francis gets there, and with his build he'd be a lot less memorable if he'd just lose the tophat, but -- Dick fingers his yellow cape and feels a certain sympathy.

Three minutes before Batman arrives, and Dick thinks about just how weird the guys Ivy's got her vines on can get, and if he can possibly get himself out of the jam he's put himself in -- or unjam the stuff he's put in himself, and the pun makes him feel a little better, but not a lot. Probably best to just deal with his own stupid idea and ignore his hormones as much as he can.

He has never hoped someone would kick him in the groin, but it sounds like a good solution right about now. Batman can probably take these guys by himself, Ivy or no Ivy, and unless something really sudden and pretty bad happens, Dick's going to have to help.

Dick smacks himself for getting creative and gets up so at least he won't be shifting around when Bruce gets there. He has to bite his lip at the feeling, and that's just not going to work at all. "Right," he says, and considers for half a second that he could just tell Batman, and take care of it --

But the longer Ivy's there, the harder things are going to get, so that option's out, too.

He's pretty sure he's not standing differently than he normally would when Batman lands on the roof. "She's on the second floor now," Dick says. "Third window from the right."

Batman touches his shoulder. "Good work."

Dick relaxes a little, then thinks of another possible excuse. "You're not going to make me stay up here just because -- someone's worried, are you?"

"I may need your help. Come in through the second window from the right." Batman fires his grapple. "Ready?"

"Anytime." Dick shoots his and jumps as soon as it catches.

He crashes through the window, tucks, rolls -- wincing and hating himself just a little -- and comes up right behind Phelps, who's stripped down to his undershirt and pants. The R on his tattoo is backward -- Dick makes a mental note, and then trips him when the shout goes up, "It's the Bat!"

It's easy to kick him in the knee so he won't be getting up, and then Jimmy the Moocher pulls himself away from Ivy and charges at Dick, and it doesn't matter, right now, that doing a split-kick makes him feel squishy and open, because if he doesn't do it -- and then grab a bolo and toss it after Ivy -- he may not be around to deal with anything at all. His toss is off, and maybe that's from the way his heart is pounding, or maybe he's just not perfect.

Batman has Johnny by the lapels, but he's just stammering for now, so Robin chases after Ivy, listens in the stairwell, and swears inside his head as he chases her downstairs, then skips a flight and whimpers for real when he lands. Never again -- but one more flight, and he's behind her, and this time it's a little close for the bolo, but it works.

"If you kill my babies, I will destroy your whole city," Ivy says, and Dick has to catch his breath before he can ask.

"Babies?"

Ivy struggles against the bolo, but Robin trips her -- and Dick, under the mask, shivers -- and gets her in cuffs. "God, I hate you, kid."

Dick laughs and doesn't tell her how much he hates himself right now. Being around Ivy is usually enough to make him think inappropriate thoughts. Right now, he needs her face-down so she won't know how aroused he is. It would sound pretty bad in the Arkham rumor mill. "So. Babies?"

Ivy tries to kick him and he dodges. "In the basement."

"Uh-huh. Nice place to keep babies."

"They're not human." Ivy spits the word. "They have all the light they could want, and lovely fertilizer."

"What are you growing?" Robin asks, keeping his voice level by holding perfectly still.

Ivy shakes her head. "They're not ready, you stupid brat. If they were, you'd never have gotten in here."

So it could have been a lot worse. At least Dick can tell Alfred that part when he admits he wasn't just watching things happen all night. "What is it this time, killer vines?"

"Venus flytraps big enough to eat bats and little birds like you." Ivy tries to roll over and he holds her down with a foot on her shoulder, as gently as he can manage it. Even lifting his foot -- he sighs, and Ivy tries to kick him again. "You're just taking me in. Get it over with."

"We're going to have to destroy them," Dick says, and he means it as kind of an apology. "And you can't say goodbye, either."

Ivy groans. "Stop gloating and take me back."

Dick could probably pick her up, but he can't deal with the thought of touching all of that skin, or having her breasts anywhere near him. Soft -- and he punches himself in the thigh. "When Batman gets here."

He hears Batman land behind him. "Ah. Well done, Robin."

It leaves him stuck between not wanting Batman to know he's excited on patrol -- or why, especially -- and needing to say something and let Ivy up. "She says she has giant Venus fly traps in the basement."

"I see." Batman pats his shoulder. "Hold her here, then, and put on your gas mask." He opens the basement door -- Ivy was almost there, and \-- it could have been worse, so much worse. After he gets his mask on, he throws in the gas bomb and shuts the door.

Ivy wails, and Robin's afraid she's actually crying. Batman grabs her by the cuffs and Robin gets out of the way, moving his hips as little as he can manage, which is still too much. "Did you get all the guys upstairs?"

Batman nods. "The police will find them there. Ivy, however --"

"Yeah, we should take her in." Robin can take his bike home and maybe get rid of some of the evidence of how silly he's been before Batman gets home. It's reassuring enough that he smiles.

She struggles. "I haven't done anything wrong, damn you."

"You weren't due to be released for another five years." Batman gives her a push toward the stairs. "If you don't start walking, I'll carry you."

"My poor innocent plants." She goes slowly, but she goes.

At street level, Batman says, "Code 23," and Robin frowns at him. It's the term they use for needing backup, but Ivy's tied up. Why anybody would need backup to drive somebody to Arkham is beyond him, but he can't exactly say no.

"Acknowledged." Robin follows them to the Batmobile, which only just has space for Ivy in the back. If they were bringing in Killer Croc, it would be a lot harder.

As it is, she fits, and Robin hates walking there only slightly less than he hates actually sitting down, and -- the car's vibration is less than the bike's, but it's not small enough to make him not want to hide and cry. At least with Ivy there, on the way to Arkham, nobody says anything.

Dropping her off is another long walk of wriggling and shifting, during which Dick would like to just die, thank you, and yet he keeps not dying, even while the intake officers shake Batman's hand and clap Robin on the shoulder. "Thank you, thank you so much."

When they can finally leave, Robin would normally do a handspring or something to celebrate, but he's walking nice and sedately tonight. Batman asks, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, I'm --" Of course he had to try to answer while he was getting into the car. "I'm fine."

He's pretty sure he sounds fine by almost anybody else's standards, but he still can't fool Batman. "What happened?"

Dick waves his hand. "I didn't hurt myself, I --" The shifting gears means shifting vibration. "I promise."

Batman glances at him. "Was Alfred right, then?"

"No, no." Dick reaches over and pats his shoulder. "I'm fine, I just --"

"What?" Batman asks when he hesitates.

"Um." Dick looks out the window. "I was -- experimenting. With one of the things you gave me last night. And, um."

Batman clears his throat. "You were experimenting."

"I sort of still am." Dick presses his cheek against the window to cool off his blush. "But it was a really bad idea, I see that. Really."

"Mm. It would be distracting, yes."

Dick laughs and bites his lip. "I -- I think that's a good word for it. I --" He shivers. "I really messed up, huh."

"You brought Ivy down and didn't get hurt." Batman pats his knee. "That's better than you've sometimes managed unimpaired."

"I feel pretty -- impaired." Now that he's admitted the problem, it doesn't feel so embarrassing to shift in his seat, though every time he moves, he wants to move a little more, and that could get difficult fast.

"Mmm." Batman smiles at him, and Dick shivers. "Did you secure your bike properly?"

Dick makes a face. "I'm aroused, not brain-damaged."

"Then we'll get it tomorrow." Batman pats his leg again -- his thigh, this time -- and takes a right turn, toward home.

"Shouldn't we keep --"

"No."

Dick closes his eyes and tries to make himself sit still. "I guess Alfred will -- will be glad. That we're back early."

"Yes."

Dick frowns at Batman. "Are you angry?"

"No."

"I --" Dick shifts and bites his lip again as the stupid thing pushes in a little farther. "I thought I was going to sit on a roof all night, I --"

"If someone had realized what you were doing --" There's the lecture voice, and it's not better than the monosyllables.

"I know, I didn't --" Dick holds onto his seat until his knuckles pale. "Didn't realize how -- weird it would be. I guess."

Batman squeezes his thigh again. "Don't do it again."

"No. I won't." Dick shivers at the thought of a bigger fight, and how crazy he'd go, but not in the good way. "I -- I didn't break any rules, though."

"I didn't think you had."

Dick smiles and tries to take deep breaths. "I -- should I apologize?"

Batman laughs, once. "I had the impression you were pushing on purpose."

"Sort of." Dick wriggles in his chair, gets the plug a little too deep, and looks out the window to hide his gasp. They're almost there, but not quite close enough. "If you -- I mean, I am really sorry. But more for myself than because of you."

"If I what?" Batman asks.

Dick bites his lip, but the more he talks, the closer they are to home and the chance to finally stop feeling this way. If he'd picked a different subject, though, he could have distracted himself instead of making things worse. "I feel stupid, looking forward to you -- spanking me."

"Ah." Batman doesn't say anything for a few breaths. "Does it help to know I look forward to it, too?"

Dick laughs. "It doesn't hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt you much, either." And they're finally, finally there.

There have been a lot of times when getting home at the end of the night was a huge relief, but never quite like this. Usually it's because one of them is bleeding and there's stuff to be done to fix it right now, no questions and no hesitation. Now he's got plenty of time to take off his mask and gloves.

Usually Dick jumps out of the car without even thinking about it.

He eases himself out, this time, caught between the discomfort from his jock and the still way too much comfort in his ass. "I'm never, ever doing this again," he says, and means it.

His knees shake a little, and he doesn't need Batman to catch him, but the kiss helps, and Batman's hands pushing his shorts down and finally getting him out of the horrible jock help even more. He whimpers into the kiss.

Bruce pushes the cowl back. "Not on patrol."

Dick shakes his head and kicks his shorts and underwear away. "I promise. Never."

"Some other time, perhaps." Bruce twists the thing and Dick leans on him, hard, seeing a whole new color of stars.

"God, Bruce --" he laughs. "If you don't give me permission to come really soon, I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"Did you put it in before you left?" Bruce asks, and tugs it out.

Dick gasps and feels -- empty, and that's such a weird thing to feel, but it's also pretty much true. "Yes, I --" And when Bruce pushes it back in, it shouldn't feel so big.

Or so comfortable, but he had a long time to get used to it.

"Did you like it?" Another thrust, and it's not big, but it's not smooth, and Dick pushes back without really meaning to.

"I -- I don't know." Dick buries his face in Bruce's chest. "I -- shouldn't have done it."

"That's not an answer." Bruce spanks him once, and the way it makes him tense makes it all that much worse. "Did you like knowing it was there?"

"It -- it felt good." Dick looks up at him, trying to figure out if Bruce is angrier than he's admitting, or what. "It -- I kept wishing you were there, so we could -- oh -- come back and -- and do this."

Bruce kisses him again and bites his lip. "You wanted this."

"Of course." Dick pushes back against his hand. "You -- you feel so good."

Bruce spanks him again. "You're playing a dirty game."

"I know." Dick leans on him harder. "I -- you think I don't know that, when I was fighting, and -- and every time I tried to do anything all I could feel was that thing."

"Mm." Bruce pulls it out partway and shifts the angle, just a little. "Push back."

It hits just right, and Dick couldn't stop himself from moaning if he wanted to. "If I could have -- just gotten it to hold still -- but --"

"That's not what they're for." Bruce shifts it again.

"I know, now." Dick laughs and shivers. "It -- every time I moved, it \--" he bites his lip. "It was right there, just like -- that."

"How close are you to orgasm?" Bruce asks.

Dick takes a deep breath and tries to gauge it. "Um. I. It depends what you do."

"Mm. If I spanked you --"

Dick blushes. "I wish I didn't like it, I really do. I -- I don't know."

Bruce kisses him and pats his ass, then reaches up and unfastens Dick's cape and tunic and helps him out of them. "Lean against the car -- with only your hands touching it -- and spread your legs a little."

It feels even sillier than getting on Bruce's lap, though Dick's afraid that's just because he has lots of practice at the latter. He hears Bruce take off the gauntlets and drop them, and he looks at his own reflection in the window of the car. His face is flushed, and he looks dizzy. "Maybe this will be okay."

"How so?" Bruce pets his thighs.

"Well, if I don't have anything to rub against --" Dick bites his lip. "I can probably last longer."

Bruce kisses the back of his neck, which must be all sweaty from his cape. "It's possible." He pulls the buttplug out, then pushes it in again, hard enough that Dick sighs. "Should I take it out?"

"No, I -- no." Dick shivers at the sound of his own voice. "I -- really liked it, yesterday, when you, um."

Bruce spanks him, and he can't think of what he was trying to say, only of the sting and the way he wants it, and wants not to want it.

"You liked it yesterday when I what?" Bruce says, while he's resting his hand, or rubbing Dick's ass, or -- both, it's both.

"When you -- fucked me. With -- the --" Dick shakes his head and braces for the pull and push of the thing inside him, and loses the words again. "I'm sorry about the, the vegetables --"

Bruce spanks him again and his knees nearly give. "Was that what you wanted when you put this in?" Another thrust, and Dick has to rest his forearms on the car so he doesn't hit his head.

"Yes, I -- it felt so good." Dick moans and pushes back. "I just wish it was bigger, right now."

He groans when Bruce pulls it out, but on the next thrust, Bruce's finger is next to it, spreading him wider, deeper, and crooked right where he needs the pressure. "You spent all evening with this up your ass and you wish it was bigger." Bruce spanks him again. "How will I ever keep you busy?"

"Don't stop, don't -- stop." Dick shakes his head. "I -- it was fine, I just -- when you were playing with it, now --"

"That wasn't playing." Bruce pulls his finger out so slowly Dick can feel every knuckle and ridge.

"When you were -- fucking me with it." Dick thrusts his hips back, trying to get Bruce to go faster.

Bruce kisses his neck again. "Greedy boy."

"I'm sorry." It's not a word he likes, not one that ever applies to him, and it makes him want to stop this -- even though he doesn't want it to stop. "I'm sorry, I --"

The sting in his neck is Bruce biting him, he's sure of that, and the stretch -- two fingers and the bulk of the buttplug, and he spreads his legs and arches into it. "You can have whatever you want," Bruce says. "All you have to do is ask."

Dick shakes his head and fights to get enough breath around the pressure of Bruce thrusting into him. "I don't want to be greedy. I don't."

Bruce pulls his fingers out and hugs him from behind, warm and solid. The plug feels narrower now than it has all night, but it's still there, keeping him a little breathless. Bruce's erection presses against him, and Dick rubs against him, but -- it feels greedy, and he makes himself stop. "In this, I want you to be."

Dick sighs. "But --"

"When you ask for things --" Bruce nuzzles his neck. "Especially when you can't always find the words, and you can't breathe -- I know I'm giving you what you need."

Dick shudders and leans on him, trying to catch his breath, trying not to rub against Bruce. "But it's not what I need, it's just what I want."

Bruce squeezes his biceps gently. "That's all right, too."

It doesn't seem like being greedy about anything could possibly make somebody happy. "Are you sure?"

"Get your balance back." Bruce waits for him to shift his weight, then strips, quickly and quietly. He runs his hand down Dick's back when he's done. "Turn around."

Dick turns, his legs shaking, and starts to apologize again, but Bruce kisses him when he opens his mouth. "I --"

"Tell me what you want," Bruce says, and it shouldn't be as hard a question as it actually is. It might actually be easier if Bruce would play with the toy again, so Dick didn't have to try to think.

"Whatever you want." Dick hugs him tightly. "Please, just --"

Bruce squeezes his shoulder. "Just what?"

Dick is shivering, but he's finally got his breath back, if not all of his balance. "Anything that makes you happy."

"Ah." Bruce kisses him. "Circular reasoning -- I want to give you what you want, and you want to give me what I want."

Dick laughs. "That's not very helpful, is it."

"Not as such." Bruce rubs his lower back. "You really shouldn't play that sort of game on patrol."

"I know." Dick frowns. "I said that before."

Bruce smiles at him. "As soon as I knew why you were wriggling like that, I was entirely too tempted to stop -- right there -- and give you what you wanted."

The image makes Dick shiver again. "I -- please --" He kisses Bruce. "Do it now, like you would've then. That's -- that's what I want."

Bruce sighs against his mouth and lets him go. "It would be better if we'd just gotten here." He catches Dick's hip again. "Turn around." It's not quite Batman's voice, but it's low enough that Dick smiles when he does it.

"I --"

"That you dared to do this --" That's Batman's voice, and his fingers pulling the buttplug out, shoving it in again until Dick shouts -- and it hurts, but only for a second. "Just how badly do you want to be fucked right now?"

Dick spreads his legs farther and pushes his hips back. "Please, I --" he bites his lip, but if it's what Batman wants him to say -- "I need it."

"I'm sure you do." Batman spanks him hard, five times, and squeezes the burn away. "Dirty boy."

Dick shivers and leans harder on the car. "I'm sorry, I --" He thinks of the day before. "I couldn't wait, I --"

The next spank interrupts him and makes him whimper harder. "That's not what good boys do."

It makes him want to laugh, because he knows -- he saw, a second ago -- how happy he's making Bruce by playing this kind of game. But -- "I wanted you, I -- I'm sorry."

Batman laughs, and the hair on the back of Dick's neck stands up even though he's sure Bruce isn't angry at all. "Why should I give you what you want?"

Dick tries to think, but it's a stupid question, so he goes with the obvious answer. "You'll like it, too."

"So confident." Batman spanks him again. "Will you scream for me?"

"Anything." Dick shivers. "Please, anything."

"Just one thing." Batman pulls the buttplug out and tosses it aside. "Don't come while I'm inside you." And he pushes in before Dick can protest the instruction, and makes him shake and lose his breath again.

"Please, I can't --" Dick pushes back onto him. "You feel so good, I \--" He lets his head hang and tries to make a sentence out of the desire in his brain. "I'll do anything, but I can't --"

Batman bites the back of his neck. "Then you won't do anything, will you."

Dick reaches back and runs his fingers through Batman's hair. "I've been waiting for -- this -- oh -- all night, I -- really, I -- I can't, please --"

"Greedy, greedy boy," Batman says, and it doesn't hurt this time because Dick can't believe Bruce wants to be this cruel.

"Only because I -- oh -- want you." Dick braces himself on the car and pushes back harder, shuddering with the stretch of it. "Because you -- nn -- feel so good --"

Batman laughs again and thrusts into him until he really does scream. "That's it," he says -- or Bruce says, Dick can't think well enough to tell. "Give me what I want."

"I --" Dick moans. The rhythm of his hips is getting to be too much. "That's not -- nn -- not fair, I -- I --"

"I never claimed to be fair." Batman pinches his nipple with wet fingers and Dick screams again.

"I don't care if you -- let me, I --" Dick shakes his head.

Batman says, harsh in his ear, "If you come now, I'll make you suck me until you can't talk."

Dick chokes and laughs and pushes back against him faster. "Let me. Please let me, I -- anything, just fuck me --"

"Nn -- Robin --" Batman pinches his nipples again and strokes him once, just once, and Dick comes, screaming something wordless and pushing back onto him harder until it all feels perfect.

"I --" Dick catches himself on the car at the next thrust, before he falls entirely forward. "I can't reach you from here, I --"

Batman laughs and squeezes his hip, pulling him back. "You need to be right -- nn -- where you are."

Dick braces himself better and groans, trying to get enough breath and thought back to say something -- anything. All he comes up with is, "Next time -- next time, tell me how bad you want me, I --"

"You should know by now." Batman smacks his thigh.

"I -- I do -- but I meant, oh, let me know when, and --" Dick whimpers. "Not like I'm going to say no to you, you could -- do this -- anytime."

Batman groans. "Don't -- say things you don't -- mean."

"I meant it." Dick reaches down and covers his hand, squeezing. "Whenever you want, I --" Batman makes a strangled noise in his ear and holds him steady, thrusts into him one last time and shakes hard as he comes. Dick laces their fingers together. "I wasn't kidding, you know."

"Yes, I know." Bruce kisses the back of his neck. "You should shower."

Dick shivers. "I -- yeah, I can tell." He pats Bruce's thigh and grins. "You should keep me company."

"I intend to." Bruce pulls out and Dick whimpers at the twinge. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I just --" He shakes his head and turns around, hugging Bruce again. "Just -- I wasn't, for a second, but it's no big deal."

Bruce frowns at him. "Only for a second?"

"I would have said something." Dick smiles at him. "I promise."

"Mm." Bruce kisses him again. "Hit the showers."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

Bruce lets him go. "After I've cleaned up after you, yes."

Dick glances back at the car and blushes. It's not a big mess, but it's enough to embarrass him. "I can do that," he offers.

"I chose the venue." Bruce shakes his head. "Go on, it's fine."

Dick grabs a towel and turns up the hot water good and strong. It feels great to get clean again, even though most of the process of getting dirty was a lot of fun. He lets himself relax into the hot water once he's lathered up and rinsed off once.

Bruce joins him at some point after his shoulders have lost their tension and washes himself off before he says anything. Everything feels practically normal until he runs his hand up Dick's back and asks, "How are you doing?"

Dick leans into the touch. "Better now." He grins at Bruce. "Okay, it was fun, kind of, messing around with -- that thing, but -- it's a relief to be able to walk normally."

"I'm sure." Bruce kisses him. "You're not uncomfortable anymore, are you?"

"No, I'm fine." Dick wriggles his hips, testing the theory. "It feels a little weird not to have anything there, now."

Bruce sighs and swats his ass. "I have another rule for you."

Dick tenses. "What did I do wrong?"

"It's all right." Bruce kisses him again and sucks on his lower lip. "You need to accept that 'greedy,' in this context, is flattery."

"I didn't --" Dick blushes. "I still didn't mean to be."

Bruce nibbles on his ear and swats his ass again. "You destroy my self-control."

"I'm sorry, I --"

"Don't apologize." Bruce shakes his head. "I'm sure I can manage not to have you on your knees every five minutes."

The thought makes Dick shudder. "I was mostly kidding."

"Only mostly?" Bruce laughs and lets him go. "I had planned to send you to bed."

Dick gets back under the water and tries to ignore his returning arousal. "I can go."

"Not yet." Bruce pats his shoulder. "After all -- you didn't wait for permission."

Which is only sort of true. "Has it been five minutes already?" Dick asks, and gets down on one knee, grinning.

He doesn't expect Bruce to groan and pull him up again before turning off the water. "Upstairs."

Dick laughs and grabs two towels, tossing one to Bruce. "Anywhere."

"Don't tempt me." Bruce dries himself off and Dick lets himself stare, because even though he's used to seeing Bruce naked, he's spent a lot of time not looking at him quite like this. It's much better with permission.

"I still mean it," Dick says, and he puts his robe on. It doesn't do half enough to hide his erection, but the walk across the cold floor of the Cave to get a pair of sweatpants helps some. Bruce looks normal in just his robe until Dick looks at his eyes, and then he has to look away before he needs a colder shower. Bruce looks hungry, and Dick can't think of anything he'd rather do than give him what he wants. "I \--"

Bruce says, "The bed will be easier on your knees," and walks away before Dick's sure of what he's hearing.

Dick pulls on one of the sweatshirts that's still too big, thinks about ice cubes for a while, and hangs the robe up again before he starts up the stairs. He wonders how long it will be before he stops being relieved that he can move freely again, and has to grin at himself. The next time he wants to take some crazy risk, he's definitely going to talk to Bruce about the pros and cons first. He's a little sore, but not enough to make the thought of doing something just that stupid again unattractive enough. The memory of everything that came after it is starting to overshadow just how much trouble doing his job was in that state.

He'll have to get Bruce to remind him not to, if he gets tempted again. Right now, there are better, and more immediate things to do. All the lights are out, and it's as quiet in the Manor as it gets anywhere in Gotham. Dick feels kind of like he's sneaking into Bruce's bedroom, even though he's almost sure that's where he's supposed to be.

Bruce is there -- once the door is open, Dick can hear him -- and when Dick shuts the door again, he turns on the lamp by the bed. He's naked again, sitting up in bed, and the twin of the box under Dick's bed is sitting by the pillow. While Dick is still blinking and trying to let his eyes adjust to the light, Bruce says, "Take off your shirt."

"I thought -- I mean, with the pants and all --" Dick pulls it off and shakes the sleeves out. "Better?"

Bruce smiles. "The pants can go, too."

It feels stranger being naked here than it ever did in the shower, especially because he's getting aroused again, and with the pants on the floor by the shirt, it's really obvious. "Um. May I join you?"

"In a moment."

Dick frowns and shifts from one foot to the other. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

Bruce shakes his head. "No. Come here."

Sitting on the bed is much better than standing in the middle of the floor, especially when Bruce kisses him again. Dick sighs and puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "So, um. Do you want me to --" It's hard to say what he's thinking, even though he's offered it before, but he was more distracted then by his own arousal. "I mean, I could lick you, or \--"

"Not yet." Bruce kisses his cheek. "Make yourself come for me first."

Dick blushes. "Right now?"

"Sometime within the next half hour." Bruce sits back against the headboard. "Or longer, if you were feeling inspired."

"But -- why do you want me to, when you're right there?"

"To clarify what you would like."

Dick laughs and reaches for him. "Everything you've done, everything --"

Bruce pushes his hands away. "In the second place, because I'll enjoy watching you."

"More than you would if you were doing something?" Dick tries to imagine watching Bruce masturbate, and although he can sort of see the appeal, it seems passive.

"Differently." Bruce opens the box next to the pillow. "You've probably had enough of toys to last you a while, but --" he hands Dick a bottle of lubricant.

"You're really not going to help." Dick looks from it to him.

"You don't need help."

"Well, no, but --" Dick bites his lip. "You really mean it."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes. If you doubt how much it affects me --" he spreads his legs slightly. "I'm sure the evidence will be obvious."

Dick laughs and closes his eyes. "Okay, I --" Wrapping his hand around himself isn't normally the hardest thing he does all day. "I can do this."

"I should hope so." He can hear Bruce's smile.

"I just --" He squeezes himself and feels Bruce watching him, though that doesn't make any sense. "How fast do you want me to go?"

Bruce hesitates a moment. "At your own speed."

Dick licks his lips and strokes himself slowly, thinking of how Bruce would do it if he was teasing. "This is really -- ah -- embarrassing." Not as bad as that time in the study, but -- that felt different, too.

"Keep going."

"I --" Dick shivers. "I wasn't going to stop. I remember what you said you want."

Bruce shifts his weight and the bed moves slightly. "Good."

"I just --" Dick shakes his head. "Is this really -- really what you want?"

"Open your eyes."

Bruce is watching him when he does, and -- hungry isn't the right word, but maybe avid is. He's got his hands on his knees, and he's aroused again.

"I --" Dick speeds up. "It can't -- be that much fun to -- oh, just watch --"

"I'm listening, I assure you."

Dick groans, though he almost never does when he's doing this. Usually, he has no one to impress. But then, usual is pretty much gone. This is probably the only way he's going to get permission to do this anymore. "I -- I used to do this -- god, two times a night, but --"

"Mm. Do you miss it?" Bruce smiles at him.

"I -- no, I --" Dick shakes his head again. "I only stopped because, because we started -- nn --" He bites his lip against the next words because they all sound wrong.

Bruce takes in a quick breath. "When we started what, exactly?"

Dick frowns and squeezes himself harder. "Fucking sounds so -- so nasty."

"The term has its place, but -- yes." Bruce shifts again. "What would you call it, then?"

"I --" Dick takes a deep breath and pushes into his fist. He's getting far too close to coming to have this kind of conversation. "Bruce, I, I don't know, I can't think."

Bruce leans forward and pats his thigh. "How were you going to finish the sentence?"

Dick shivers. "Making love, I guess -- oh, but that sounds --" he makes his own hips jerk, and he can't think hard enough to censor himself. "That sounds dumb."

He's afraid Bruce is going to laugh -- it's such a girly phrase, he should have just said they're "having sex" -- but Bruce kisses him.

"It sounds accurate."

"Oh, I --" Dick blinks at him. "Really, but --"

Bruce smiles at him. It makes him feel warmer, and it's not the same as getting closer to orgasm, but it's not very different from it, either. "That does seem to be what we're doing."

"I wasn't sure --" Dick takes a shallow breath. "I -- I really want to kiss you."

Bruce kisses him, gently at first -- like making love, maybe -- and then hard, like having sex, like fucking. Maybe they're doing all of those things, or maybe there's not really a difference. "You're doing so well," he says when he lets Dick go.

Dick whimpers and squeezes himself harder. "I -- if you want me to wait, I have to stop --"

"Don't stop." Bruce squeezes his shoulder.

Dick has to close his eyes, has to get his thumb to rub just there, just -- that hard -- and he moans and comes, perfectly aware of just how much Bruce is watching, and how well he'll remember all of it.

He doesn't even remember the lubricant until he lets his less sticky hand fall and touches it. "Oh. Did you want me to use this?"

Bruce kisses him. "It doesn't matter."

Dick smiles. "If you say so. I --" he wrinkles his nose at his hand. "I should go wash up."

"That's not necessary." Bruce takes his hand and sucks his fingers. Dick gasps.

"That's -- Bruce, I --" He shakes his head and tries to feel it less. "That feels -- really good, and --"

"Yes?" Bruce kisses his palm.

"And I --" Dick laughs at himself. "I only just came. This is ridiculous, I --" He takes a deep breath. "I'm fine. I -- did you want me to, um."

"Finish the sentence." Bruce licks his thumb.

Dick tries to get the words. "You said -- you wanted me to take you in my mouth, I can -- I can do that."

Bruce's smile makes him smile right back. "That's not at all what I said."

"I know." Dick bites his lip. "I just -- okay, do you want me to -- suck you, then?"

"Yes." Bruce pats his cheek and sits back, spreading his legs slightly more. "And the next time I tell you to touch yourself --"

Dick grins and strokes Bruce's erection. "I'll remember it makes you this happy."

"I'm not sure 'happy' is the appropriate term." Bruce shivers.

"Aroused, then." Dick moves down the bed and moves so he can be on his knees and get a decent angle. He licks the head of Bruce's penis and grins up at him. "Intrigued."

Bruce runs his fingers through Dick's hair. "Fascinated. And somewhat impatient."

Dick sucks him lightly and wraps his hand around the base. "Sorry," he says, grinning.

"Mm." Bruce rubs the back of Dick's neck. "If you didn't want to do this --"

Dick pulls off just enough to laugh without choking. "I know, I know, I shouldn't have had an orgasm." He kisses the head of Bruce's penis. "Like I could really help it."

Bruce lets his breath out. "You didn't even try."

"I know." Dick sucks him again, deep enough that this time he chokes a little, and his soft palate is a little stickier and saltier than before. Bruce shivers and Dick does it a little harder, but he makes himself cough too much. "I did better at this yesterday."

"You were more distracted." Bruce pats his shoulder. "You're trying too hard, and it makes you tense."

"Huh." Dick strokes him and tries to think. "Well, if the harder I try, the more difficult it gets, I'm kind of stuck."

"Take a deep breath," Bruce says. "I have faith in your persistence."

"Right." Dick squeezes him. "You just make it look easy."

Bruce tugs his hair gently. "You know the answer to that."

"Practice." He makes himself relax, and gets farther, enough that he has to let Bruce go and he'd smile, but his mouth is too full. The next dip makes Bruce shudder and pet his hair harder.

"That -- ah --isn't so hard, is it?"

Dick swallows some of the extra spit in his mouth and does it again, though his eyes are watering. It's worth it when Bruce's hips jerk, even though the back of his throat is going to be uncomfortable later. He remembers Bruce's promise and shivers at the thought, though it seems implausible. Shivering makes him realize he's aroused again.

It's not really a distraction, but it helps to have another sensation to focus on when he's choking and reminding himself why. The weight of Bruce's hand on the back of his head helps, too, but -- Dick lets him go, wipes his eyes, and says, "I can only push myself so far, but I'm okay -- just --" he pats the back of Bruce's hand and grins. "You always know how much I can take better than I do."

Bruce sighs and pats his neck. "Dick --" he shakes his head. "All right."

Dick wipes his eyes again. "I'll let you know if it's too much."

Bruce props himself up on one elbow. "Tap out," he says.

"Right." Dick smiles and sucks him again. He can't imagine wanting to get this to stop, and when Bruce pushes him down just that much further, past what's becoming his comfort level, he can't breathe -- and it's just what he wants, full and hot. When Bruce moans, Dick wants to smile even more. He takes a deeper breath on the next upstroke and moans through the next push.

"Just like that --" Bruce's voice is uneven and he thrusts up enough that if Dick was doing this by himself, he'd have to pull off, but he can't, and it's --

He moans again when he gets another breath, swallows when he has a moment, and gives in to the rhythm Bruce wants, timing his breathing against the seconds where he can't, when his mouth and throat are too full to let him breathe. His throat hurts, but it doesn't matter, not when it means Bruce groans and shudders because of something Dick's doing for him.

If he could talk, he'd tell Bruce how much he loves this feeling, ache and breathlessness and all, but humming is about as far as he gets. He's getting dizzy from the lack of air, and he's got no idea how long he's been doing this, breathe and thrust and relax and breathe.

Bruce pushes him down a little faster and he wants to cheer, but there's no way to get enough air. Dick squeezes his hip instead and closes his eyes against the way they're watering. "So -- good," Bruce says, and shudders hard, moving his hand from Dick's neck into his hair and pulling him off.

Dick has just a moment to take a breath, and he wants to do this right, all of it, but Bruce is coming and not letting him go anywhere, either to suck him through it or back off enough not to get seriously sticky. The best Dick can do is to keep his eyes shut, catch his breath, and frame the question in a way that Bruce will answer.

Bruce pulls him up and kisses him before he's sure how to ask, but it just gives him a little more time to think.

"I really don't understand the appeal in --" Dick licks his lips and remembers not to open his eyes "-- in ejaculating on someone." His voice definitely isn't gone, but it's hoarse.

"Mm." Bruce kisses him again and lingers. Maybe he's having trouble thinking of the answer. "Visible evidence of exactly what you'll do for me -- in part."

Dick grins. "Haven't you had enough of that?"

Bruce runs his finger down Dick's cheek. "Not quite like this."

"What's the other part of it?"

"You look impressively filthy." Bruce takes his hand and presses a tissue into it. "Wipe your eyes, at least."

Dick does, then pauses. "Just my eyes?"

Bruce makes a soft noise and kisses him. "You learn so quickly."

"I'm trying, anyway." Dick wrinkles his nose, which is beginning to itch. "Is it okay if I go wash my face?"

"Yes."

Getting out of bed and washing up makes Dick cold enough to shiver, and by the time he's done, he's starting to feel tired enough to go back to his room, unappealing though the prospect is. "I should probably get dressed again."

Bruce glances at the clock, then at him. "Stay here for a few hours."

Dick yawns. "Are you sure?"

Bruce fluffs up one of the pillows. "I'll wake you at four."

It's a small price to pay for being able to get back in bed with Bruce, who turns off the light and puts his arm around Dick. His shoulder makes a good, solid pillow, and leaning against him is like leaning against a very warm, breathing wall. "Mm. I wish we could do this all the time. Are you going to sleep, too?"

Bruce pats his side. "Eventually."

Dick edges a little closer to him. "Good night, then."

He can hear Bruce's smile, even though he'd have to turn the light on to see it. "Good night, Dick."

All through the next day at school, Dick keeps thinking what it would be like if he was crazy enough to use a buttplug there. It makes his head swim and keeps his mind off of the aftereffects of actually using one yesterday, which aren't as uncomfortable as they could be and have a lot to do with thinking about maybe doing it again.

He's almost entirely positive that Bruce would be more upset about the concept of mixing sex and public education than he was about Robin and sex.

It doesn't make the time, especially after lunch, go any faster.

When he gets home, he's even more distracted and distractible. He doesn't want to admit how he's feeling to Alfred, so after a snack and a quick, "How are you, Master Richard?"

\-- which he hates --

\-- and telling Alfred he's fine, and doing his best smile, and telling a story about Sarah at lunch and helping her with her science homework \--

Dick hides in the Cave.

It's not technically hiding because Alfred knows exactly where he is, but it's closer to hiding than it is to anything else. He tries everything he can think of to keep his mind off of what he could be doing, and the two hours and ten minutes, five minutes, three minutes, time to stop looking at the clock, until Bruce gets back.

Nothing helps, and he's going to have to talk to Bruce about this, because if he spends every day this frenetic, he's going to lose his marbles.

He ends up working on the rings for long enough to make his arms and shoulders protest just because when he's up there, he has to keep his hands right where they are.

"Have you been outside during daylight at all this week?" Bruce asks when Dick has given up on the rings, and on weights, and on stretching, and is about to give up on keeping to the rules. The last recourse he has is a cold shower, and even that isn't helping.

Dick turns the shower off. He can't hug Bruce yet, he's still all wet, but it only takes a second with the towel, and never mind that just having Bruce that close means that the point of the cold shower is completely gone.

"I went for a run yesterday." Dick dries himself as quickly as he can and hugs Bruce. "I -- I just --"

Bruce strokes his hair. "You've been pushing yourself hard."

Dick laughs. "I can't stop thinking about sex, and working out isn't helping."

"Mm." Bruce squeezes his shoulder. "Unfortunately, Alfred has made dinner early, and the police scanner has been -- ominous."

"Oh." That's the cold water to the back of the neck he needs to get his mind off of himself. "I'll get dressed."

"It sounds as though Killer Croc is out again."

Dick wrinkles his nose and pulls his shirt on. "You'd think they could keep track of a guy that big."

"That's part of the problem." Bruce hands him his pants. "He's strong enough that they have trouble restraining him."

"I know, I know." Dick sighs. "And I know we have to chase him down. I just wish we didn't have to."

Bruce kisses him, and he wants to relax into it, but there's too much to do. "Yes, but we do."

It helps to be thinking about Croc, who is basically the opposite of sex, through dinner. Dick feels like he's making reasonable conversation for the first time in days. Alfred actually smiles at him \-- well, it's a smile for Alfred -- and doesn't say anything about his being out of sorts, and maybe should stay home.

He doesn't want to spend the whole night on the streets when there's other stuff to do. He blushes when he tells Batman just where he'd left his bike and thinks about exactly why it had ended up where it was.

Being back on it feels entirely too normal and sexy at the same time. Batman gives him a pattern to search and sends him off. Dick keeps his eyes peeled for any odd bite marks, any footprints down by the docks, any anything that looks like Croc might have done it.

He has only just gotten to the docks when his radio turns on. "Sprang Bridge," Batman says. "Two hostages."

Dick says, "Be right there," into the radio and heads for the bridge as fast as he can go. With Croc, two hostages means two meals.

When he gets there, Killer Croc has dropped one of the people -- she's bleeding and hanging on to a girder under the bridge for dear life -- and is fighting Batman for the other. He's got five tranquilizer darts in his neck, though, so Robin's job is to save the dangling hostage and set her carefully on the bridge.

She starts crying as soon as he gets her to relative safety, and she hugs him tightly.

Someday, he's sure he'll be tall enough that women's breasts won't be quite so much at head height. "Thank you," she says, "oh, thank you."

"You're welcome," Robin says, and he gets away from her as fast as he can.

Just in time to see Batman get Croc between the eyes with a good kick, and Croc fall over.

Robin punches the air, then turns back to the woman and pulls out bandages and antiseptic. Her leg is scraped, not torn open, so she'd be fine if she had to be, but if everything else is okay, he might as well help her out. "This is going to sting," he warns her, and she nods.

It doesn't stop her from wincing at the pain, but she deals with it pretty well for someone who probably doesn't get hurt a lot. "Thank you," she says again. "You saved my life."

Robin wraps her leg in the gauze. "Just doing my job, really."

"Still." She smiles at him when he's done taping the gauze. "The city doesn't do nearly enough to thank you."

There's a siren in the distance -- four sirens, three police and an ambulance. The woman will be just fine. "We don't need thanks," Robin says, and goes to find Batman.

He's keeping an eye on Croc, and he frowns when Robin joins him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, sure." He glances down -- there's a streak of the woman's blood on his leg. "Not mine."

The set of Batman's jaw makes Robin realize that Bruce would hug him if they were home right now. It's a strange sort of feeling, but it's certainly not an unpleasant one. "Good," Batman says.

The first police car stops and the officers get out quickly, but when they see Croc flat on his back and Batman and Robin there, they relax. "Got him already?" says one.

"The woman over there needs to go to the hospital." Robin points.

"The man Croc was carrying ran." Batman glances at Croc again. "He may have a criminal record. He didn't appear to be injured."

The policemen look at Killer Croc, which means it's a good time to run for the bike. Everything is under control here. "Where are we going next?" Robin asks via radio.

"Home," Batman says.

It's not even close to midnight. "Say again?"

"Head home. We'll do a full patrol tomorrow."

Robin frowns. "Did Croc get you that bad?"

"No."

He waits, but there's no elaboration. "Are you okay?"

"We'll discuss this when we get there. Batman out."

Robin tries to figure out what's going on. He has several theories, and he only likes one of them.

When he parks the bike and Batman more or less lifts him off of it to kiss him --

It's his favorite theory.

It also makes his heart pound, and all of the thoughts he's been trying hard not to think are awake and right back in the front of his mind. "I thought you were hurt," Dick says, and Batman kisses him again.

"We've done our job," he says, and he's pushing Dick's shorts off already.

It's probably just as well, considering how uncomfortable they were getting. "I'm not complaining." Dick pulls off his gauntlets. "Not at all."

Batman squeezes his ass -- he's still got his gloves on -- and hugs him more tightly. "I want you."

When Dick tries to squeeze him back, Batman catches his wrist. "I --"

"Not here." Batman pushes him away.

Dick bites his lip and tells his knees to stop shaking so much. "Where?"

"The horse."

"The --" Dick laughs. "Really?"

Batman pushes the cowl back. Bruce is flushed and looks deadly serious. "Go."

"If you're sure." Dick takes off his cape on the way and leaves it with his belt and his tunic next to the gymnastics equipment. It feels even sillier to do this here than it did on the car, but he was so impatient yesterday he wouldn't have complained no matter where they were. Still, it's softer, and he can brace himself a little better.

Bruce -- at some point he took the gloves off -- spanks him lightly when he's all settled. "Don't question me," he says, and Dick laughs again.

"It just sounded funny."

Another spank, and a squeeze. "You don't look funny at all." Bruce presses his finger between Dick's buttocks, and Dick has a moment to wonder exactly where he keeps the lubricant before he decides not to care.

"I -- thought about you doing this all day long." He pushes his hips back, expecting Bruce to slow him down, but he gets just the speed he's asking for. "God, I --"

"You seemed so -- focused." Bruce spanks him again, as if that's anything to be ashamed of.

"I was, for -- for as long as you needed me to be, but --" Dick shakes his head. "I couldn't think."

Bruce sighs and slows down, and Dick whimpers. "You need to learn to do better."

"How?" Dick bites his lip. "I wasn't thinking -- about this -- oh, please -- during patrol, and not during the fight, but -- you were, weren't you."

"Yes." Bruce adds another finger. "All day."

"Oh, I -- I thought it was just me, I --" Dick spreads his legs farther. "Just -- god, why do you go so slowly? You don't have to."

Bruce rubs his lower back, though he's in no mood to be soothed. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"I'm fine." Dick leans back against his hand and gets the angle he's been looking for. "I -- please, you can speed up, or --"

"Not -- yet." Bruce spanks him again, and it makes him shiver. "Stop pushing me."

"Sorry, sorry." Dick tightens his hands into fists. "Just. I've been, been waiting. All day."

"You're not the only one."

"You're --" Dick shakes his head. "It's different, though -- you're so controlled, and --" he shivers. "You -- can stop and think, and I --"

Bruce laughs, and this time he's almost expecting the spank -- though not seven of them, quick and stinging. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Dick rocks his hips. "Just -- here. This is all I want."

Bruce doesn't say anything at all to that for long enough that Dick starts to wonder if he said it out loud, or just imagined doing it when he was really whimpering.

"Bruce, I --"

Spanking isn't nearly as reassuring as words, but it's much better than nothing. "Tell me when you're -- ready."

Dick shivers and pushes back against his hand again. "When you are."

Bruce squeezes his hip. "Tell me what you want."

It's getting easier to say every time, especially because Dick's sure it makes Bruce shiver to hear it. "Please -- fuck me."

He bites his lip when Bruce pulls his fingers out and braces himself for -- he's not even sure what he'll get. Bruce sounds impatient and feels like he's fighting it.

Bruce pushes into him so slowly Dick wants to scream. The stretch is getting familiar, and the feeling makes him want more. He shivers and tries to remember anything he's done that has made Bruce lose his control more than this.

"Relax," Bruce says, and it's nearly a joke. He doesn't sound relaxed at all.

"I --" Dick tries to take a deep breath. "I just -- I want you, please, now, you're -- nn --"

"We have -- all night." Bruce kisses the back of his neck.

"So we can do it again." Dick leans back against him. "Please, I --"

Bruce groans and pulls him back a little harder -- not half as much as he could if he really wanted to, but it's something. "You're pushing again."

"I know." Dick shifts his weight against the horse and meets the next thrust -- and feels Bruce's hips snap into it. He lets his head fall and moans. "Do that again, harder -- please, please --"

"You'll pay for that." Bruce shudders and his hips snap again.

"Oh god, yes." Dick laughs and groans at the same time. "Please, yes. Anything you want."

"Nn." Bruce breathes on the back of his neck. "I should -- stop."

Dick's not completely sure he can, right now, unless something goes wrong. "Don't stop, please don't --"

Bruce's voice is hoarse, but not quite Batman's. "Greedy."

"Yes." Dick shudders. "God, I want you -- so much, please, faster --"

"Ah --" He's going to have to remember that, if he can remember anything with Bruce thrusting into him like this. Anything that works this well --

"You feel so good," Dick says, and though he's got both hands braced for the moment -- "May I -- please may I touch myself, I --" He groans.

Bruce strokes his erection, and everything gets harder to bear without screaming. Dick's heart is pounding so loudly he has trouble thinking what the next thing Bruce says means. "Keep your hands where they are."

It's more than a tease, and the rhythm is perfect. "Oh god, I --" Dick pushes into his hand, back onto him until he feels so full he wails, and tries to breathe without coming. "I -- please, I can't --"

"Can't -- what?" It's so flat it's hardly a question.

"I, I --" Dick bites his lip and tries to think, and fails. "I want --"

"Tell me."

Dick whimpers. "Anything you want, anything. Just -- oh god, please, please let me come, I --"

Bruce spanks him again and it makes him shake and want more. "Wait."

"I -- oh -- Bruce, I --" Dick takes a shuddering breath. "For -- for what?"

The next thrust knocks his breath out, and when Bruce squeezes him he can only gasp. "Show me how -- good you can be."

Dick slams his hand against the pommel horse, trying to get any kind of sensation that will push back the need to come. "I -- when you're doing that, I -- how good could anyone be, please, just --" He shakes his head. "Do -- nn -- what you want, but --" The rest of his thoughts melt away when he takes a breath.

"But what?" Bruce asks.

Dick screams in frustration and fights to say anything at all. "Don't -- be surprised when I -- god -- can't last."

Bruce's laugh is almost entirely a gasp. "You're doing -- so well."

"I --" Dick moans. "What can I say, I -- what can I do, just -- let me, please --"

"You're doing everything." Bruce groans in his ear. "Just -- right."

"Oh, god --" It doesn't sound like permission, but he can't wait anymore when he can feel and hear exactly what this is doing to, for Bruce. It would be bad enough if Bruce didn't care -- Dick is shaking and breathless enough on his own -- but the groan is what tips him over the edge and makes him come.

He can't even tell if it's too soon, if he was supposed to try to hold himself back, but the way Bruce clutches him and groans -- if Bruce couldn't stop himself from coming anymore, then he can't be too mad at Dick.

"That was --" Dick tries to catch his breath. "I --"

Bruce lets him up after a few moments. "Are you all right?"

Dick shivers. "Apart from -- should I apologize?"

Bruce pulls out and he bites his lip against the feeling. He can balance when Bruce gets him to turn around, but only just. The kiss makes it harder. "You'll have to make up for it, that's all."

Dick hugs him and tries to figure out what he can do. "Anything," he says, but it seems unimaginative. So does offering what Bruce wanted last time, but -- "I didn't lose my voice, you know."

"It was a figure of speech," Bruce says, but he's smiling.

"Still." Dick kisses him. "If you wanted that again --"

Bruce runs his hand down Dick's back. "We should take a shower. Get the grime of the streets off."

Dick leans back against the touch. "After, then."

Bruce shakes his head, but it's not a no. "You're determined to surprise me."

"As much as I can." Dick grins. "Okay, let's take a shower, then."

The line between taking a shower to get clean and standing under hot running water while kissing goes away as soon as the first layer of dirt and sweat is gone. Dick reaches for Bruce once his hair is rinsed. "When should I --"

Bruce deflects him with another kiss, and another. "Let me catch my breath."

Dick hugs him again. "Whenever you're ready."

"I'm getting that impression, yes." Bruce pats his shoulder. "In the interests of water conservation, we should take this somewhere else."

"Sure."

"The mats would be sufficient." Bruce turns the water off.

Dick smiles. "That works for me."

While he's toweling his hair off, Bruce disappears, and Dick has to leave the showers to find him, right where he said he'd be, with one of those boxes that has the kind of toys in it that make patrol entirely too interesting. "How many of those do you have?" Dick asks.

"Enough." Bruce kisses him again and hands him the box. "Amuse yourself for me."

Dick licks his lips. "I thought you wanted me to --"

"I can wait."

"All right." Dick opens the box -- this one has a slightly different array of things, along with plenty of lubricant. The largest dildo is still sufficiently large to make him wince, even though he's less afraid of the thought this time than he was before. It helps that he's still relaxed and slick from earlier. "What did you want me to do?"

"Push yourself."

It's almost funny to have Batman talking about this.

Almost funny enough that Dick feels like it shouldn't be arousing. "I --"

"Are you going to argue about this?"

Dick is torn -- if he does, he's not sure what will happen, but he's pretty sure that Batman will be the wrong kind of angry with him. "No." He picks up the thing that scares him -- his fingers only just touch around it -- and a bottle of lubricant. "I was just trying to figure out what you meant."

"Good." Batman takes the box again.

"At least --" Dick grins at him. "I know I'll go nice and slow with this."

"You're learning something, then." The tone is teasing, but Batman kisses him, and that part feels sincere. "On your knees."

Dick has a dizzy moment of trying to figure out how he's supposed to focus well enough to use the dildo and suck Bruce in any way that'll work at the same time, but when he kneels, Batman sits down, too. "Should I start?"

"In your own time. If you need to lie back, you may."

He's not sure whether it's the toys or the thought of having Batman in his mouth again, but he's aroused again. "I --" Dick sets down the toy and puts a bunch of lubricant on his fingers. "I know you want me to push myself, but --"

Batman strokes his nipple. "But?"

"It feels like cheating to do something I -- kind of want to do anyway." The first finger is so easy he blushes, but he reminds himself that it's good that he's getting used to this.

"It's a matter of magnitude." Batman isn't smiling, but the way he's watching Dick, it feels like he wants to be.

Dick bites his lip. "Well, okay, but --" Another finger, and it feels like he could just keep going, get all his fingers inside himself, if it wouldn't mean breaking his wrist. He laughs at the thought -- it wouldn't work. "I -- god, I can tell it's a, a magnitude thing."

"If you're uncomfortable, slow down." It's Batman's voice and Bruce's words.

"No, I --" Dick pushes his fingers in again, but he can't get them where he wants them. "I should be a lot more uncomfortable. Or -- or --"

Batman squeezes his shoulder. "Tell me what you feel."

"Really --" Dick rocks his hips and grins at Batman. "Wide open. I -- when I -- ah -- started with, with two fingers for a second there, I felt like I could just keep going. Two, three, four, five."

Dick has a moment to realize he's managed to surprise Batman again -- his eyes widen a little, just a little -- before Batman kisses him, running his fingers through Dick's hair and sucking his lower lip. "Slowly," he says.

"I know --" Dick moans. "I just -- is it okay if I go slowly with the other thing now?"

"Lie back." Another kiss, and Batman's hand on his back keeping him from moving right then -- but then he can, though he has to move his fingers to do it.

He's still a little afraid of the toy when he picks it up again. It's easy to forget how big and solid it is when it's not right there in his hand. "I -- where did I put --"

Batman hands him the lubricant again. "Here."

"Thanks." Dick props himself on one elbow and coats it, then makes a face. "I -- I'm really sure this is going to feel good," he says out loud, half to convince himself, and half because Batman wanted to know what he's thinking.

"If it doesn't, stop."

"I know, I know." Dick sits up enough to grin at Batman, who's frowning. "I should go slowly, I shouldn't do anything that makes me uncomfortable, and -- if I manage to do anything with this --" he waggles it. "I'm pretty sure I'll make noise whether I want to or not."

"None of those rules are jokes." Batman puts his hand on Dick's wrist and squeezes lightly. "Nothing -- none of this, nothing at all -- is worth your being in real pain for even a moment."

Dick takes a deep breath. "I guess spanking doesn't count, huh?"

Batman is over him, letting his wrist go but pinning his shoulders, holding him flat on his back. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Dick bites his lip and backs off. It's easier to tell how much pushing is too much in the field than in this. He's not used to the new boundaries yet. "I was kidding."

Batman kisses him again. "I wasn't."

"I'm fine." Dick tries to lift his shoulder, but Batman's not letting him up. "I'm not going to hurt myself."

"You're too confident." Batman pushes his knees farther apart and presses a finger into him, faster than he normally might. Dick lifts his hips and whimpers. "If you're not cautious enough --"

"I'm --" Dick pushes himself onto Batman's finger, harder, trying to get it deep enough. "I -- I'll be so careful, I will --"

Batman pulls his hand away and taps Dick's wrist. "Slowly. Tell me what it makes you feel."

Dick bites his lip and moves the toy to where he wants it -- and tries to not think so hard about how big it is. "It feels really cold," he says before he even tries anything, even though that's obvious. If he's going to follow instructions, he'd better start while he can think.

"Spread your legs wider." Batman pets his thigh when he does it. "You're too tense."

It takes a few deep breaths to get his muscles to unclench, but he can do it. It's not as though he's doing a split, anyway. "Now?"

"When you're ready."

The first push -- as slowly as he can go -- is huge and slick and cold, and Dick groans. "Doesn't hurt," he says first, so Batman doesn't try to stop him. "Feels -- god, so big. I --" he presses it in farther before he dares pull it out even a little. "I -- it doesn't feel like you do. At all."

Batman tests his thigh muscles again. "Keep your breathing steady."

"I'll -- nn -- try." Dick tugs it almost all the way out and hisses through his teeth. "I'm fine -- it -- I won't want to stop, it --" It feels entirely too good to push it back in and feel the stretch. "So -- full. I --"

"Gently." Batman's voice isn't gentle at all. It helps Dick remember the rules, that he's not just doing this for fun, but -- he's supposed to be pushing himself, too.

"I'm trying." Another slow stroke, and he can't keep his breathing anything like even. "It -- it feels like, like my mouth did yesterday \--" The image doesn't make any sense in his head, but it's true, just the same. "When you -- ah -- helped --"

"How so?"

He has to stop moving to think about it. "Like I'm doing this for you. Not just me -- and I --" Dick shakes his head. "Like I can do -- anything. If you ask me to."

Batman sighs and kisses him -- soft, like Bruce would, and then -- not soft at all. "Keep going."

Getting it a little farther in makes Dick moan and try to breathe through the feeling. "I'd try -- anything," he says, because there's no word for what he feels except that.

"Let it go." Batman grips the dildo as soon as Dick moves his hand and makes him slow down. "You're too brave for your own good."

"Oh --" Dick laughs. "You'd never hurt me." He closes his eyes and pushes into the next stroke. "Just -- drive me crazy, please don't go so slow --"

"It's difficult to be thorough and hasty." Batman rubs his thigh just as slowly as he's moving the toy.

Dick shakes his head. "You're so -- good at it though."

"Mm." Batman pushes it in and it's just -- right.

Dick groans. "Please, do that again, I --" Another thrust, right at the same angle, and he has to push against it and whimper. "I should've -- asked. Before. I --"

"Asked what?"

"When -- when it's -- when you'll let me, ah, come -- I --" He shivers. "When you do that, it makes it hard to -- to think. To hold on."

"Ah," isn't an answer at all.

Dick braces for the next thrust and shivers with it. "I could -- you could --" he whimpers in frustration when the words won't come. "So -- big, I just --"

Batman squeezes his thigh. "You could what?"

The only phrasing that's coming to Dick's mind right now is, "You could fuck my mouth again," and --

Batman groans when he says it. "Greedy."

Dick reaches for Batman's free hand. "Or stop -- using that and --"

Batman kisses him and pushes the toy in.

Shoves it, hard and fast and slick, until it's all the way in. Dick shouts and breaks the kiss. "Do that again, please -- please --"

The next thrust makes him wail. "Tell me how it feels," Batman says, and Dick has to look for the words.

There's too much there, too much inside him and holding him open and pinned under Batman's eyes, to put into a sentence. "Perfect -- ah, god \-- I can't think --"

"Does it hurt?"

Dick shakes his head and tries to put words to the feeling. "Don't stop, don't stop, I --"

Batman is listening this time, and trusts him enough to keep going. "Don't come yet."

"I --" Dick smacks himself in the thigh. "I -- please don't -- nn -- touch my nipples or -- even kiss me, I --"

"You'll have to work on that," Batman says, but he sounds breathless, and he's not doing anything worse to break Dick's control yet.

"Sorry, I just --" Dick shivers hard. "I just can't -- not yet, I --" He tries to control his breathing. "When -- when can -- may I, I --"

Batman squeezes his hip. "When I tap your leg." He leans in and Dick whimpers even before Batman sucks the head of his penis.

When he actually does it, Dick screams. The wet, warm feeling makes his hips thrust even harder. "I -- oh please, I -- god, I can't, I --" He shakes his head, but his control is almost entirely gone. "Please don't make me, not -- not yet, I -- I want to do what you said, I --"

He's sure he's going to lose it too soon, that he'll disappoint Batman, and it makes him try to fight the feeling back, but there's no help for it, and less at the next push of the thing inside him. Even after the slow part, and the faster part, he's not used to the way it feels.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is rough, breathy -- "I just can't, I --"

Batman taps his leg, three times, clear as anything, and Dick comes, shaking and full, his fingers tangled in Batman's hair and his feet braced on the mat, pushing for as much feeling as he can. He's more relieved than he has words for or breath to say them with, even when he manages to stop screaming.

Batman kisses him before he can take a deep breath again. His mouth is slick and wet, and it's enough to make Dick shiver. "Thank you," he says, and Batman strokes his hair, tugging a little.

"Are you comfortable?" Batman asks, and --

Dick was expecting a little less gruffness. The sharp question makes him shiver. "I'm fine. I -- that was --" He touches Batman's shoulder. "I feel like I'm floating."

Batman bites Dick's lower lip. "I want your mouth."

"Sure." Dick smiles. "Let me find my knees first."

"Stay where you are."

Batman moves -- kneeling up, shifting -- and Dick has trouble tracking him, and then trouble believing he's really going to -- straddle Dick's chest, tall and -- huge.

If it was anyone else, Dick would be scared.

There's nothing to be scared of here, and he's --

Still aroused, because he hasn't had time to even come down.

Dick touches his thigh. "I won't be able to move very well."

Batman strokes his hair. "You'll be fine."

"Of course." Dick grins at him. "And I remember, tap out if I have to."

It's not Bruce's smile at all. "Such a good boy."

Dick licks his lips. "Don't -- I haven't done everything I said I would."

"Yet." Batman pats his cheek. "Have you caught your breath?"

"Yes." He hasn't come down entirely. He's not sure he could, with the toy still inside him, warmer now but just as big, holding him wide open.

The feeling and taste of Batman's penis in his mouth, just enough to lick at first, would get him right back up again even if he had. He moans and wants to laugh at himself for wanting it so badly, but when Batman sighs and pushes in a little more, he stops wanting to laugh.

He's too busy enjoying the way this feels and trying to remember all the ways to make sure Batman enjoys it, too. At least with this, he doesn't mind how slow Batman wants to go -- it gives him time to get it right, and find the ways to make Batman sigh.

The better he does, the harder it gets to do anything fancy. He's getting used to the way his eyes water when Batman pushes in farther, and he can manage a good suck for a few strokes, but he's starting to lose it.

He would apologize if he could, but he has to start keeping track of his breathing -- the deeper thrusts are still slow, but he can't breathe in the middle of them. It makes him feel like he should be doing more, like he's as out of control as he was when Batman was fucking him with the toy. It makes Dick shudder and try to arch his neck a little, but Batman tangles his fingers in Dick's hair again and holds him down. "Don't."

He groans in the moment that he can, protesting, because this isn't something to tap out over. It doesn't hurt, and though he's getting dizzy from not getting enough air, he's physically fine.

The next thrust chokes him -- and the next is faster, enough that he moans and thinks again of the toy inside him, the way it felt when Batman shoved it in as hard as he's pushing now. He couldn't have stopped that without lying about how it felt, either -- it was too good to stop, and too deep.

This is even less controllable, less resistible, because it's exactly what Batman needs from him. This breathless choking, the thrusts that make his throat ache, the groans that he's not supposed to hold back and can never finish because of the way Batman cuts off his air -- this is what he's supposed to be right now, and where.

The thought -- not even a thought, because it's something that makes so much sense it has to be true -- makes him even dizzier, and he can't afford that. It also makes his hips thrust against nothing except the weight of the toy inside him, and his muscles clench again.

"Perfect," Batman says, and Dick can't even tell whether he knows how close Dick is to having to stop him, not to breathe but to beg for permission to come. He can't, though -- and if this is what he gets for not waiting, he'll never wait again.

The thought of having this, giving Batman this, every night --

Dick squeezes his hands into fists and tells himself he can wait, just another minute or five minutes, as long as he's supposed to, but he knows he's lying when he thinks it. He can't get a real breath, and the spots in front of his eyes aren't the first warning, but they're the worst.

The last thing he wants to do is make Batman stop. He's groaning at least as much as Dick is -- more, because he can breathe -- and the way his hips snap -- Dick wants to make him feel like that all the time, and if it takes this, giving up everything he's got, even his air, he'll do it. It makes him so hard he wants to grab himself, and he can't hold himself still, even though every movement of his hips makes the toy move inside him and tease him worse.

But he's not supposed to let it really hurt, and if he forgets that, Batman may never be this uncontrolled with him again. He taps the mat once -- a warning, not a 'let me up' -- and Batman pushes in, hard, and comes, choking him for a few seconds too long. The thrust and the rush are too much.

Dick comes hard, tapping out too late and jerking his hips, hearing himself scream only after he's sure he's been screaming a long time in his own head.

The spots in his vision all gang up on him for -- some period of time.

He opens his eyes again in Batman's arms, with two fingers finding his pulse. "Hi," he says, and laughs at himself.

Everything makes him want to laugh, even Batman's -- Bruce's frown. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no no." Dick shakes his head. "I -- that was --" He laughs at the lack of words, too. "We have to do that again. Whenever you want."

Bruce moves from monitoring his pulse to petting his cheek. "It was too --"

Dick covers his hand. "Please?" He sits up enough to kiss Bruce and tries to put all of what he's feeling into the kiss, even though he's not sure what it all is. "You didn't hurt me, I just --" He still can't help grinning. "I couldn't make you stop. You were having so much fun."

"Fun." Bruce raises his eyebrow at Dick like he does when he's trying not to smile. "You could call it that."

"See?" Dick kisses him again. "Everything's okay. Besides, I shouldn't have come, and I did, so you're going to have to do it again until I learn."

Bruce laughs and strokes his hair. "I would feel better if you were more perturbed by that prospect."

Dick relaxes. It helps that Bruce isn't nearly so worried now. "Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Perfect practice makes perfect," Bruce corrects him.

Dick laughs and hugs him. "Then I think we're on the right track."

Dick has never been as unhappy about getting a call from the Teen Titans as he is the next day after school, but he knows he has a job to do. If it keeps him out all night, that will make him lonely, but if he complains or tells Bruce why he doesn't want to go, he won't deserve any kind of attention at all.

He wonders if they'll be able to tell that something has changed, but nobody says anything other than, "Hi!" Wonder Girl hugs him, and they talk about what's going on -- something has caused two tidal waves to hit right near Titans HQ, and they can't just stand by and let people get hurt.

Dick feels just as sure of his orders as he did the week before, and they don't ask any more questions than usual.

It makes him wonder what kind of things they do that he would never guess. If maybe the Flash --

No, not the Flash. Wally would say something. Wouldn't he?

But Wonder Girl's good at keeping secrets, and Aqualad, too. They could be doing almost anything when they're not working with the Titans, and Dick would never guess.

Dick catches himself imagining Wonder Girl all tied up in her own lasso, Aqualad shaking with pleasure, and shivers. He's almost certain that he's making it all up.

When Speedy says, "We're all ready, Robin-o," Dick can't stop himself from imagining him on his knees, Green Arrow's erection in his mouth and green gloves in his hair.

It makes him want to be home right now, and it makes him glad he's wearing his mask so that nobody can see how much he completely avoids looking at Speedy's eyes. He's sure it's not true -- as sure as he can be -- but if it is, maybe Speedy's had the same thoughts about him, and he'd be able to tell.

It's not a risk Bruce would want him to take. "Okay, Titans, let's go."


End file.
